







9 





MM*' • #• 

T ' % i ^ 

* ‘ - 


■= "» J ‘if ■ • 




COMRADES IN CAMP 





Camping 
With Henry 

STORIES FOR THE CAMP FIRE 

f/h^'cheley 

Author of ** Told by the Camp Fire” ”A Big 
Brother Investment” ”The Adventure of a 
Prodigal Father” ”Camp and Outing Ac- 
tivities” etc. 


ASSOCIATION PRESS 

New York* 347 Madison Avenue 
1918 



Copyright, 1918, by 
The International Committee of 
Young Men’s Christian Associations 


JUN kb ISIS 


©c:. 


A4S9441 


•'»! e> t 


In Real Appreciation of a Thou- 
sand Little Favors During the De- 
velopment OF Camp Eberhart, These 
Yarns are Dedicated to My Friends 
THE KNEVELS 



CONTENTS 


8TOEY PAGE 

I. In Which Henry Ruggles 
Goes Camping 1 

II. In Which Henry Ruggles 
Joins “The Ancient Or- 
der OF Stuck-ups” 31 

III. In Which Henry Ruggles 

Goes Hunting Rabbit ... 51 

IV. In Which Henry Ruggles 

Becomes a Real Fisher- 
man 75 

V. In Which Henry Ruggles 
Proves His Nerve 97 

VI. In Which Henry Ruggles 

Conducts a Coon Hunt. 117 


I 




• ¥ 






STORY I 


IN WHICH HENRY RUGGLES 
GOES CAMPING 












STORY I 


IN WHICH HENRY RUGGLES 
GOES CAMPING 

In spite of himself Henry already 
felt a bit lonesome. He could see 
his mother’s tear-stained face, and 
hear her last words ringing in his 
ears as the Airline train pulled out 
and actually started him on his way 
to a real summer camp for boys. 

“Be sure to be very cautious about 
the water, son, and don’t get lost 
in the woods. If your nose stuflPs 
up, apply the ointment as I showed 
you, and be sure to write me a big 
letter every day, for mother will 
be so anxious to know about every- 
thing. Be careful about sunburn. 
Don’t eat too much, and be very 

sure ” But they were out of 

hearing now, and all Henry could 
see was a frantically-waving handker- 


4 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


chief and a group of blurred people; 
in spite of himself a tear had stolen 
into his own eyes, for he was leaving 
her behind for the first time in his 
life. He had fairly lived in a strange 
fantastic world for weeks, planning, 
and imagining, and getting his camp 
kit together, and even now, as he 
settled into the red train cushion, 
he could hardly realize that he had 
actually left them all behind or that 
he was headed straight for Michigan’s 
lakes and low rolling wooded hills, 
where he was to spend the summer 
in a modern boys’ camp along with 
a hundred other lads, none of whom 
he had ever yet seen. 

Five minutes after leaving the 
station he eagerly consulted his new 
dollar watch, and, to his amazement, 
found it would be at least four hours 
before he would reach the little camp 
station. Just how best to occupy 
himself during that enormous ex- 
panse of time was the immediate 


GOES CAMPING 


5 


question. As he sat gazing out of 
the window, yet without seeing any- 
thing in particular, the endless chain 
of advice that his mother had been 
giving him the last two weeks, about 
where to put this and that, and 
what to do when so and so happened, 
began afresh to flash into his already 
crowded brain; for, being a hve, 
reasonably vigorous American youth, 
he had some ideas of his own about 
what a boys’ camp was like and 
how a fellow ought to behave. Hadn’t 
he read every camp story he could 
lay his hands on in the neighbor- 
hood, from “Four in Camp” to 
“Two Little Savages,” and fairly 
devoured the camping number of 
every boys’ magazine at the Library? 

“You’d think I was going into 
the heart of Africa,” he said, at 
last, half aloud, with just a trace 
of self-satisfaction in his voice. “A 
fellow ought to be a regular Edison 
dictaphone to remember half of the 


6 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


instructions that have been given 
me. I’m just like all other kids, I 
guess, that have been born and 
raised in a big city, and if they get 
on, I can. But who ever heard of 
such foolishness — ^four pair of pink 
pajamas, and enough linen handker- 
chiefs to wipe every boy’s nose in 
camp three times a day!” Then 
with a wink, and a determined ges- 
ture, he added, “The bottom of the 
trunk for all that junk first thing. 
Imagine Daniel Boone, can you, in 
pink pajamas wiping the perspira- 
tion from his sun-browned ‘physiog’ 
with a two-by-four scrap of initialed 
linen!” He smiled out loud. “And 
to think of Kit Carson ambling 
down to the shore of the lake each 
morning in a bathrobe and slippers! 
I’ll bet the rest don’t even wear a 
bathing suit. Such things would 
shock ‘Momsey’ to death.” 

Thirty minutes later he suddenly 
roused himself from his reverie 


GOES CAMPING 


7 


and again consulted his shin- 
ing time-keeper. “Hum! — ten forty- 
seven. Well, that’s nearly noon. 
Think I’ll take a whack at that 
lunch ‘Momsey’ fixed. I was so 
busy getting my trunk off to the 
station this morning that I forgot 
to eat a bite of breakfast. I heard 
‘Momsey’ tell Nora to fix it right, 
’cause like as not it would be the 
very last bit of decent food I’d get 
for some weeks.” He smacked his 
lips in anticipation of that fried 
chicken and cherry pie, as he got up 
and surveyed his numerous boxes 
and packages. There was father’s 
precious fishing-rod that he had 
caught so many monstrous fish with, 
back in his boyhood days. There 
was the Scout Manual and the 
latest book on woodcraft and camp- 
ing that Nora had found after the 
trunk went to the station; his hat, 
coat, sweater, a rain coat, his home- 
made sail, yes, and his kodak, that 


8 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


just wouldn’t go into the trunk, and 
a box of fudge that Nora had sent 
along to remind him of her when he 
got to living on baked beans and 
stewed prunes and boiled potatoes. 

Twice he made a mental inventory, 
but to save his life he could not 
locate that lunch box. Then, like a 
flash, it came over him, he had left 
it on the ticket window when he 
bought his ticket. His heart sank 
suddenly and disappointment filled 
his face. 

“Hum ! Imagine Daniel Boone go- 
ing off and leaving his lunch be- 
hind!” he mused. “I’m a greenhorn, 
that’s a fact. Hope ‘Momsey’ don’t 
find it at the station; she’ll worry 
herself sick thinking of me starving 
on this train.” 

Just then the conductor asked for 
his ticket, and after three careful 
searches in every known pocket he 
was about to give up in disgust 
and pay the conductor a second 


GOES CAMPING 


9 


fare, when he located the ticket 
tucked well away in his new pocket 
book. The conductor smiled. He 
had been taking up tickets to Camp 
Pokokoko for several seasons and 
had seen this little performance of 
lost ticket many times before. Be- 
sides, he had a boy of his own. 

“Haven’t you any baggage. Sonny? 
I see your ticket isn’t punched,” he 
said kindly. “Most of these boys 
have a trunk along or at least a 
home-made camp box.” 

“Yes, I have one,” said Henry, 
a strange fear suddenly gripping his 
heart, “but — but, by Jiminy, I for- 
got to check the thing, and — well, 
what do you think of that! Too 
blamed many friends came along to 
get me started this morning, and they 
got me rattled. I was just on my 
way to have it checked when my 
auntie stopped me to tell me for the 
twenty-ninth time to remember just 
how to take the little red pills, in 


10 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


case a poisonous viper bit me. Oh, 
Gee! Now isn’t that a pretty mess? 
Going camping, and this is my ward- 
robe. I’d scare all the game out of 
the Zoo with this rig on. Say, 
Mister, how far is it back to the 
city?” 

“Entirely too far to walk, son,” 
laughed the conductor. “All you 
can do now is to telegraph from Niles 
and have it come on to you by 
express.” 

“Telegraph?” Oh, that would 
never do,” said Henry. “Auntie 
would die of heart failure before 
they even got the yellow envelope 
open. Oh, I know. I’ll send it to 
Dad’s office — ^but, say, he’d kill him- 
self laughing, and I’d just naturally 
never hear the last of it. He told 
me only last night that I’d forget 
to go to my own funeral one of these 
days, and that he’d wager I’d need 
three fellows to pick up after me 
every day at camp. No, Sir, I’d 


GOES CAMPING 


11 


rather go naked than wire Dad! 
But what can I do?” 

“I’ll look after it. Sonny,” said the 
conductor kindly. “I’ll wire the 
agent, and you can pay for the tele- 
gram. I reckon your name was 
on it?” 

Henry nodded, a pleased expression 
beaming on his face. “Yes, Sir — 
Henry Wadsworth Ruggles. It was 
a steamer trunk. Wish you could 
get me my lunch, too, but you can’t. 
Thank you a thousand times for 
your kindness. I think you must 
have a boy at your house. I hope 
that is the last thing I’ve forgotten. 
I wouldn’t have minded so much if 
I had just forgotten some of that 
advice about what to do in case of 
sunstroke or if I broke my leg while 
I was alone on a mountain, or some 
of the rest. Say, most women haven’t 
any confidence in a boy at all and 
yet they run a mile, hollering all 
the way, when they see a mouse.” 


12 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


At the next station a happy crowd 
of sturdy, healthy lads boarded the 
train. They were all clad in camp 
clothes, and as soon as they were 
once settled, began their songs and 
yells to let everybody know just 
where they were going. Henry lis- 
tened eagerly to all their conversa- 
tion, but had no thought of going 
up to where they were and telling 
them that he, too, was bound for 
Camp Pokokoko. The conductor, 
understanding at a glance, again 
came to his rescue by tipping the 
new crowd off that Henry was also 
to be a brother camper. 

Fat Templeton and Duke Smith 
promptly appointed themselves a 
committee to make Henry’s acquaint- 
ance, and in a few moments had 
him in the party, trying their best, 
boy fashion, to make him feel at 
home. He answered their flood of 
questions with courtesy, and tried 
to make himself agreeable, but it 


GOES CAMPING 


13 


was diflScult, for some way they were 
different from the boys he had known. 
He liked Foxie and the chap they 
called Lefty, and Shrimp Tod; but 
there were several others who, he 
felt confident, were trying to have 
fun at his expense, and it nettled 
him. Yet someway, they seemed to 
know just how to do everything. 
They talked of who was to win the 
Aquatic Medal that season, of the 
Leader of this tent and that, and 
the possibility of a game with boys 
from the town; of whether the tennis 
courts would be in shape or not, 
and of who would be Captains of 
the various canoe crews. Every 
single boy seemed to be a seasoned 
camper and to know all about every- 
thing; they were discussing just now 
what was the very best way to fry 
an egg on a flat stone, and many 
other of the fine points of woodcraft. 

To poor Greenhorn Henry, their 
knowledge and achievements seemed 


14 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


to mount high, and he had borne in 
upon him with tremendous force the 
one bit of advice his father had 
offered. “Get into the game, kid,” 
he had said. “Smash the line hard. 
No doubt you’re green, but you can 
learn. Keep your eyes open, and 
your mouth shut, and do things. 

You’ll soon make a place for your- 
self. Don’t ever say you ‘don’t 

know,’ and if you even think ‘can’t’ 
then you are no longer a son of 
mine.” 

There was just one thought in 

Henry’s mind now as the train sped 
on. He must watch for his chance 
and accomplish some one worth- 

while thing, and then he felt sure 
this bunch would take him into that 
inner circle of fellowship where he 
so craved to be, and look upon him, 
too, as a thoroughly seasoned camper. 
He could think of nothing in all the 
world so desirable, just then, as to 
be a really honest-to-goodness mem- 


GOES CAMPING 


15 


ber of that gang of stalwart, self- 
reliant boys who could really do 
things. To do it, he must achieve; 
and thereby hangs my story, for 
little did Henry Ruggles then realize 
of the experiences that were to come 
to him on his quest for favor with 
the gang — ^he, an over-confident city 
chap in a democratic boys’ camp, 
where leadership is determined by 
achievement and not by mere talk 
or family name. 

He was assigned to Tent Eight, 
along with Foxie, Texas, and some 
of the others, and as his trunk would 
not be along until the evening train, 
he removed his white collar, rolled 
up his sleeves so as to expose his 
pink arms, and started out to in- 
vestigate. It never occurred to him 
that he could have gotten much 
useful information about all sorts of 
customs and practices of the camp 
for the simple asking. However, he 
just assumed that it was up to him 


16 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


to find out about things himself, 
and so he started. To be sure, the 
Camp Chief and his own tent leader 
had been very gracious to him and 
made him feel at home, yet there 
was a host of little things he wanted 
to know about, and why ask any 
one? He did not frame it into 
thought. Perhaps he was not even 
conscious of it himself, but in reality 
the one thing that he was very 
touchy about was the fear that some 
boy who didn’t know who he was 
would discover there were some things 
that he didn’t know a thing about, 
and might, by accident, take him 
for a greenhorn and make sport of 
him. There was one thing that 
must be protected at any cost, as 
he thought, and that was his youth- 
ful pride. 

He personally inspected the ball 
diamonds and tennis courts, the tent 
street, the dressing locker, the chute- 
the-chutes, the fleet of trim steel 


GOES CAMPING 


17 


boats, and the canoes. He went 
carefully over the Lodge from office 
and store to commissary, and made 
his name known to Sam Doolittle, 
the chef, and even volunteered the 
information to Sambo that his father 
was General Sales Manager for the 
largest wholesale spice company in 
the country, and that he would ask 
his father to ask the president to 
ship a hundred pounds of pepper at 
once, of course, if the chef would 
hke to have it, or perhaps a barrel 
of vanilla or a keg of mustard. 

Fortunately the chef declined with 
a smile and Henry went on his way. 

Soon he was in the woods skirting 
the swamp. It was his first hike 
into such country alone in his life, 
and in spite of his determination he 
was just a bit squeamish. His ears 
were very alert for any sound of 
wild beast, and he was thinking as 
he hurried on of the story in the 
last issue of his favorite boys’ mag- 


18 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


azine, of how a lad like himself had 
nearly been swallowed up in the 
quicksands of just such a swamp, and 
would have perished if it had not 
been for his forethought and camp 
training, which prompted him to 
unwind his rope quickly from his 
hips and throw a loop over a con- 
venient low limb, tying himself so 
that he could not sink completely 
out of sight in the sucking sand. 
He was wondering what he would 
do under some such circumstances, 
as he wandered on into the low 
willow rushes and cat-tails, fascinated 
by the smells and sounds that were 
everywhere about him. 

From the trees the crows laughed 
at him. Twice he threw a dead 
chunk at them to scare them away, 
for they nettled him. Some way he 
seemed to realize that even the 
birds recognized him as a greenhorn. 
Once he nearly fainted when a mon- 
strous bullfrog, that had been sunning 


GOES CAMPING 


19 


himself on a lily pad, let out a ter- 
rific croak and dived into the green 
water just ahead of him. Without 
being conscious that he had really 
cried for help until it was over, he 
suddenly found himself wildly scram- 
bling up into a tree to escape the 
“poison fangs” of a large lazy water 
snake, that had glided right between 
his feet. His heart was beating at 
a terrific rate, and he was wet with 
perspiration. When he realized his 
mistake, he was thankful that he 
had come all alone and that no one 
really knew what a coward he was 
about snakes and things. 

He was preparing to descend to 
the ground again, and start back to 
camp, when he heard a very odd 
noise just beyond a large dense 
clump of willows. First the bushes 
would rattle suspiciously, and then 
he would hear a muffled sound like 
a dog gnawing a bone. He was in 
a real swamp — there could be no 


20 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


mistaking that — so it might be al- 
most any sort of a beast. He knew 
that moose inhabited Michigan lakes, 
for he had just been reading in his 
last Sunday’s Sunday school paper, 
of one that had attacked a boat 
with three fishermen in it and killed 
one of them before the other men 
could get at their guns. Now he 
had no gun, and he suddenly became 
conscious that the tree that was 
holding his trembling form was noth- 
ing but a slender sapling and would 
stand no battering from the horns 
of a great bull moose. Should he 
jump and run.?^ That would be very 
unwise, for he had but two legs, 
very wobbly ones at that, while 
the moose — and he was now satisfied 
it was some huge beast, from the 
way it thrashed the bushes about — 
had four. What were his chances 
under such circumstances? No, to 
run would be to betray his presence. 
He must slip down very quietly 


GOES CAMPING 


21 


and work his way out of the timber, 
keeping the clump of willows always 
between him and the beast. “A boy 
has brains,” he reasoned, “but a 
moose acts only from instinct; and 
surely brains could win in such a 
contest, especially if the animal 
didn’t know that the game is going 
on.” 

He was wondering if his aunt had 
given him any advice about what 
to do under such circumstances, as 
he slipped noiselessly down the tree 
and worked his way toward a clump 
of cat-tails. Every step he took the 
blackbirds rose in droves and scolded 
and chattered, until he was certain 
that that moose would catch on that 
something unusual was happening 
under his very nose and would start 
investigating. In case that happened 
he was lost. He had made just three 
quick moves from clump to clump, 
when that very thing did happen. 
The animal seemed to sense another 


22 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


presence than its own and stalked 
forward to inquire. Henry stood 
stone-still for fully thirty seconds, 
trying to make up his mind what 
to do. Every second he could tell, 
by the bending of the willows, that 
the huge beast was coming nearer. 
He was out on well-sodded land now. 
Running, if he had to resort to that, 
would be much easier he was sure, 
and he was confident he could make 
a good showing for at least a short 
distance. 

He worked his way to the end of 
the clump behind which he was 
hiding, and cautiously peeped out to 
get just one glimpse of the beast. 
He fancied just how it would look — 
its eyes red and gleaming, its huge 
shovel horns lowered for the charge. 
He crept nearer and nearer. Then 
suddenly he straightened up with an 
exclamation. There before him 
munched three Jersey cows. He 
could hardly believe his own eyes. 


GOES CAMPING 


but there they were. They gazed 
at him out of their big kind eyes, 
and then continued to pull at the 
tender shoots of willow, just as if 
Henry had always been standing 
where he was. 

He laughed a dry laugh and started 
on. He had had a bad scare, but 
once more he was thankful there 
had been no companions to witness 
his fright. He was just emerging 
from the woods when two big crows 
flew up and laughed a derisive laugh 
at him. This time he was positive 
they called him “Greenhorn!” 

It was growing late. The sun had 
set. He must not miss his supper, 
for he was starved. He would just 
take that short cut, cross that field, 
follow that old rail fence and save a 
long walk. He started at a trot 
and soon came to the fence. He 
was sure it led directly to camp, 
yet he heard not a sound. He hur- 
ried on. The fence led in and out 


U CAMPING WITH HENRY 


of more or less thick patches of 
second growth. He had been jogging 
along for half an hour when, emerg- 
ing from some heavy growth of low 
young trees, he came into a little 
clearing, and spied before his very 
own eyes four big turkeys roosting 
on the top rail. 

“Wild turkeys!” he cried, under 
his breath. “Ah, I am a lucky man. 
This is my chance to make good. 
Turkey will taste good in that camp. 
Those fellows are all too busy talk- 
ing about what they have done to 
know what prizes are running about 
under their very noses. I must not 
fail to get at least two. But how? 
I have no gun. Gun! Rats! Do you 
think Robinson Crusoe would have 
let wild turkeys get away even if 
he had no gun? Never. Me for a 
goodly club!” 

He carefully retreated and began 
the search for a stout club. After 
several moments of spying around 


GOES CAMPING 


25 


he found just the thing — a stout 
hickory sapling. He reached into his 
pocket for his knife, only to remem- 
ber that it was in his trunk. He bit 
his lip furiously. Was he to be 
beaten after all, with “opportunity” 
camped in his very front yard? No! 
And back he went farther until he 
came upon a dry club that he thought 
would serve his purpose. 

“Wild turkey!” he thought, as he 
advanced again. “The old Pilgrim 
Fathers had nothing on me. I’ll 
bet these birds have been to roost 
an hour. I’ll slip up close, make a 
charge, club in hand, and get at 
least one. Why, that gaunt trapper 
in Alaska killed twenty wolves that 
way, just by keeping his head. I 
ought to be able to get a turkey.” 

There they sat, four as splendid 
fat, grain-fed turkeys as you would 
ever want to look at. For a year 
they had seen men come and go, 
and no one had ever molested them. 


26 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


Every day some party of the camp 
boys would come across them, but 
these boys were campers^ and had 
long since learned to respect the 
property of all the neighboring farm- 
ers, so they just sat and watched 
the slowly approaching figure with 
curious eyes. Not until the first one 
of their number toppled from the 
rail with a broken neck did they 
sense any danger, but when they 
did, the young hunter’s chances faded 
in a second, for the remaining three 
turkeys were gone. He gave chase, 
but it was no use, they were soon 
out of sight. 

Wildly Henry clutched his precious 
prize, clubbing it severely about the 
head, for fear it might be playing 
possum. Then gathering it up by 
its feet he flung it proudly across 
his shoulder and started for camp. 
Never did a hunter return to the 
camp of his fellows with more pride 
and satisfaction than did Henry that 


GOES CAMPING ^1 

evening. His head was high, his 
chest was out. He had killed a 
real wild bird single-handed in the 
wilderness, without so much as a 
knife or pocket hatchet; all with his 
wits and determination. Surely now 
they would hail him as one of them 
and have him tell of his exploit, 
perhaps about the camp fire that 
very evening. 

The boys were seated at supper 
when he arrived. The Camp Chief 
was the first to see him coming and 
went out to meet him, unable to 
determine from a distance just what 
the lad had on his shoulder. 

“Son, didn’t you hear the last call 
to mess.f^” 

“No, Sir,” panted Henry. “I was 
away in the woods and did not hear. 
I hope I am not too late. Sir.” 

“You are quite too late, my boy. 
We serve but one supper and late- 
comers go hungry. Supper is just 
over. And wherever did you get 


28 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


that turkey — did something run over 
it?” 

‘T killed it, Sir, with nothing but 
a club.” 

“You killed it! Why, what do 
you mean.f^ — Where?” 

Henry told as best he could, his 
lip quivering, his voice faltering. He 
had been received with so little 
enthusiasm and he could not under- 
stand it. 

The other boys were crowding 
about now, eager to hear the 
story. 

“Why, that’s the cock to Mr. 
Knevels’ flock of prize turkeys,” 
said Duke. “What happened to it, 
anyway? Mr. Knevels will feel so 
badly. I heard him say only yes- 
terday that that bird was worth 
fifty dollars any day.” 

“This chap killed it,” said the 
Chief, smiling in spite of what he 
felt. “No doubt he thought it was 
a wild bird. Did you, Henry?” 


GOES CAMPING 29 

Slowly Henry’s lips curled, and 
then the tears came in a torrent. 

“O, yes. Sir, I did. And I’m so 
sorry. Wasn’t it a wild one? I 
never saw a turkey out of a meat 
market before. I thought they were 
always wild. Oh! What shall I do?” 

The Chief led the Greenhorn away 
to save him from the wild cheers and 
laughs that were now coming from 
a dozen different groups. When well 
inside his oflSce he reassured the sor- 
rowing boy. 

“I’ll go with you in the morning 
and we’ll adjust it as best we can 
with Mr. Knevels. It will be diflS- 
cult, but it’s the first thing that has 
ever gone wrong, for we have been 
so careful to teach our boys to re- 
spect property, but he will under- 
stand. Your father will no doubt 
have to settle for the bird.” 

“Oh! And will Father have to 
know it, too?” sobbed Henry. “I — 
I wish it could be fixed some other 


BO CAMPING WITH HENRY 


way. Perhaps the farmer would let 
me work for him on the farm to 
pay for it instead of telling Father.” 

Henry went to his tent to avoid 
the crowd and wait for the Camp 
Fire, but his boy’s heart was heavy 
indeed and he had never been so 
lonely before in all his life. 


STORY II 


IN WHICH HENRY RUGGLES 
JOINS “THE ANCIENT ORDER 
OF STUCK-UPS” 



*1 

i 


>} 




\ 


I 


f 




i 


4 


# 




,« 


I 



» 





STORY II 


IN WHICH HENRY RUGGLES 
JOINS “THE ANCIENT ORDER 
OF STUCK-UPS” 

“We’ll have to force the lock, boy, 
it’s the only way I can see out of 
it,” said Henry’s tent Leader, who 
had just finished trying every trunk 
key in the camp on Henry’s newly- 
arrived trunk. The boy looked des- 
pairingly at the group of giggling 
boys gathered about his tent. 

“It’s a brand new trunk. I hate 
to break it,” he murmured, “’cause 
Sister is going to use it when I get 
home. I can’t see where my keys 
went, for I’m sure I had them after 
I got on the train.” 

The Leader wiped the perspiration 
from his brow and started to get the 
screw driver and hammer. It was 
not the first trunk he had had to 
33 


34 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


force open that season, and in spite 
of his good nature it tried his pa- 
tience just a little. 

Far out on the point the evening 
camp fire was being lighted. The 
clear notes of the bugle called the 
boys to assemble. Henry hastily un- 
packed, spread his bedding quickly 
on the bunk, and took special pains 
to see to it that his pink pajamas 
were carefully concealed in the bot- 
tom of the trunk. 

“I’d be the joke of this camp if 
Foxie and the rest should ever find 
those,^' he sighed. “Tomorrow I’ll 
smuggle them into the woods and 
hide them in a hollow tree.” 

“Last call for the Camp Fire!” 
cried one of the Leaders, as he hur- 
ried past the tent. Henry dropped 
everything and followed, for he had 
been late once that day already. 
He sat down well at the back of the 
happy crowd, to see just what the 
order of events was to be; and then. 


JOINS THE “STUCK-UPS” 35 


too, he felt just a bit bashful, since 
he knew that the turkey story had 
gotten pretty well around the camp. 

Mr. Whitehall, the Camp Director, 
stood by the fire making his announce- 
ments and calling special attention to 
many little things that had developed 
out of the day’s experience, closing 
his remarks with this suggestion: 

“I reahze that there are many of 
you boys that have never been camp- 
ing before, and of course we don’t 
expect you to learn it all in a day; 
but do, for pity sakes, ask about 
things you don’t know about, and 
remember this: ‘if in doubt, find out.’ 
It will save you trouble, and me 
gray hairs and hours of sleep.” Just 
here he noted a boy sneaking quietly 
along just inside the circle of light, 
evidently intent upon some mission. 
In his hand he held a stout club, and 
he looked neither to the right nor 
left. The Camp Chief stopped short 
and smiled in spite of himself. 


36 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


‘Toxie, what on earth are you do- 
ing now?” 

Fox held up a finger to urge abso- 
lute quiet, and then with his hand 
held to his mouth he breathed in a 
hoarse whisper: “Sh— h-h, can’t you? 
Don’t you see that flock of turkeys 
yonder? They are wild birds from 
Madagascar!” With that he stalked 
on after his imaginary birds. Every 
boy shouted himself hoarse, and for 
a moment pandemonium reigned. 
Henry felt his face flush, and no 
doubt he would have been angry if 
Texas, who was sitting right next 
him, hadn’t nudged him and with a 
shy wink said: 

“Don’t mind him, kid. He’s got 
to have his fun, no matter at whose 
expense; we’ll get him yet.” Henry 
squeezed his hand gratefully, for he 
knew he had at least one friend and 
it was the most comforting experience 
of the day. 

After the fun had subsided, some 


JOINS THE “STUCK-UPS” 37 


one with a mouth-organ struck up 
“My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean,” 
and the hundred happy boys took 
it up with such enthusiasm that 
they could be heard across the lake. 
Verse after verse was sung, closing 
with the popular home-made parody 
that had special meaning to every boy : 

“Last night as I lay on my pillow. 

Last night as I lay on my cot. 

Last night as I lay on my pillow, 

I dreamed a mosquito I got” — 

every camper clapping his hands on 
the last line to suggest the slaughter 
of droves of imaginary mosquitoes. 
Next came “The King of the Canni- 
bal Islands,” “Polly Wollie Doodle,” 
and many others that always delight 
a camp fire crowd. 

The last strains had hardly died 
away when Fat became the center 
of attraction. He had seen something 
move, so he said, in the big oak just 
at the edge of the firelight. In a 
second a dozen, then twenty, and 


38 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


finally a great group of boys were 
following his directions and gazing 
into the tree tops. 

“What does it look hke. Fat?” 
questioned Lefty. 

“It was a big bird,” breathed Fat 
solemnly, “but now it’s gone.” 

“Humph! ’spose it was an ostrich,” 
said Texas disgustedly. “Get some- 
thing new, can’t you? Everything 
that flies around here now will be 
a turkey. A dollar for some orig- 
inality.” 

The circle was again seated about 
the fire and a tent Leader took 
charge. 

“We have a number of candidates 
to take into ‘The Royal Order of 
Stuck-Ups’ tonight,” he said, and in 
a second all was quiet, while he went 
on. “Now, for the sake of you new 
arrivals, let me say that this dig- 
nified Order is the most important 
one in camp, and to belong to it is 
a great distinction. Its members are. 


JOINS THE “STUCK-UPS” 39 


of course, the elite of the camp, and 
to be left out of its royal member- 
ship is a positive indication that you 
are decidedly lacking in courage and 
personal bravery. No ‘quitter’ has 
ever been given the glad hand, and 
so far as I know, no member of the 
noble band has ever failed to make 
good in the most trying of circum- 
stances. The wise and powerful 
Executive Committee, met in long 
and secret session, seated about the 
‘Mystic Paddle,’ have, after due 
deliberation and the most thorough 
consideration of evidence available, 
elected unqualifiedly to membership 
the following four boys: James Mc- 
Cartney, Ralph Blain, William Spen- 
cer, and Henry Ruggles.” 

Somebody tittered, but was 
promptly brought to order by Foxie, 
who had only a week before been 
elected to the high position of the 
“Supreme Keeper of Silences” for all 
regular meetings of the “Stuck-Ups.” 


40 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


“Now, if these four candidates 
will kindly come forward,’’ continued 
the Leader, “we will administer the 
sacred rites and instruct them in 
the privileges of membership. Will 
the Order kindly arise and form a 
circle about our candidates while we 
go through the customary ceremony?” 

The four boys suddenly found 
themselves in the center of one 
hundred eager, solemn lads, who 
crowded close to see the performance. 
The candidates were arranged in a 
square, each boy facing in and just 
far enough from the lad opposite 
from him so that when they bowed 
they would not crack heads. The 
candidates were eager and very sol- 
emn, ready to promise anything that 
might be asked of them. 

“Will the Royal Inquisitor come 
forward?” said the Leader, at which 
a second Leader advanced and took 
his place in the center of the square 
formed by the candidates. 


JOINS THE “STUCK-UPS” 41 


“Is the Royal Order ready to 
accept these candidates into member- 
ship?” he asked. 

“We are, Sir!” shouted the crowd. 

“Go cautiously,” urged the Royal 
Inquisitor. “Are you sure there is 
no cowardice in these candidates 
and no false pride? Are you con- 
fident they are thoroughly imbued 
with our motto of ‘Other Fellow 
First’? Are you certain they will 
never stain the fair name of Poko- 
koko? Have you carefully considered 
the possibility of one of them losing 
his temper when put into a tight 
place in a ball game or on a hike? 
Oh, mighty men of valor, think 
hard before you finally cast your 
vote in their favor! They are young, 
and green, and inexperienced; they 
are conceited, and selfish, and boast- 
ful; they are untried — what say you?” 

“Give them the oath!” cried the 
circle gleefully. 

“As you command me,” said the 


4^ CAMPING WITH HENRY 


Royal Inquisitor softly. Then turn- 
ing to the candidates he said, “Re- 
peat this after me in clear voice and 
in unison: 

“ T give my word of honor that 
I won’t crab, that I’ll play square, 
fight hard, and be a real sport; 
that I’ll keep my speech clean and 
my thoughts right, and that, in so 
far as lies within me, I will return 
good for evil. If I fail, I will cheer- 
fully acknowledge my mistakes. And 
my motto every day shall be — To 
Grow; so help me Shades of Poko- 
koko!’ ” 

The boys solemnly repeated the 
oath as ordered, and then stood 
eagerly at attention. 

“Now to prove that you mean 
business,” said the Royal Inquisitor 
solemnly, “I will place our copies of 
this written oath on the royal stool 
in the center of your square, which 
stands, by the way, for four-square 
manhood, physically keen, mentally 


JOINS THE “STUCK-UPS” 43 


alert, spiritually alive, and socially 
kind, and at the given signal, all of 
you bow, with knees stiff, and kiss 
this written oath, while your brothers 
join in the sacred chant.” 

“All together now,” cried the In- 
quisitor, and the campers took up 
the chant: 

“We are stuck up, we are stuck up. 

We are stuck up behind. 

We are stuck up, we are stuck up. 
Because we are stuck up behind.” 

The last “behind” was the signal, 
and as the candidates reverently 
bowed to kiss the sacred oath, thereby 
tightly stretching their trousers over 
their “seats,” a hundred open hands 
laid on one rousing slap. 

“Oh, ouch! cried Foxie. “Ouch! 
ouch! Hold on, O Royal Inquisitor. 
That isn’t fair. That’s rotten! 
Henry has sand burrs in his hip 
pocket!” Foxie danced about, wildly 
danghng his injured hand. 

The amazed candidates had come 


44. CAMPING WITH HENRY 


to a standing position now, that is, 
as nearly as was possible, and all 
stood looking at Henry while the 
happy crowd went wild with the fun. 

Slowly Henry reached his hand 
into his hip pocket to see what 
possibly could have hurt so much, 
and to his utter amazement pulled 
out his keys that he had hunted 
for high and low, and sheepishly 
held them up where all could see. 

“Sand burrs!” he said dazedly, “and 
we just got through busting into my 
new trunk.” The happy crowd roared 
again and then broke up for their 
evening’s dip. 

“I guess I won’t forget that I’m 
a Stuck-Up anyway,” he whispered, 
rubbing his trousers gently, “cause 
I’m branded. I can feel just where 
every single key goes. I was so 
excited about that turkey that I 
forgot to look in my hip pocket.” 

Ten moments later the beach was 
alive with a hundred naked savages. 


JOINS THE “STUCK-UPS’’ 45 


laughing and talking and chanting 
the magic chant. Suddenly there 
was a splash, a chorus of yells, and 
every savage clambered out to dry. 

As Henry went to his tent, he 
noted dozens of white nightshirts, 
and even pajamas, but nowhere in 
sight were there any pink ones. He 
considered just a second, and then 
decided to get into bed naked — no 
one would know the difference and 
he was sure he would be warm. He 
was just ready to crawl in when the 
night officer of the tent street, lan- 
tern in hand, came along, calling as 
he came, “Remember, you boys, 
everybody in a nightshirt tonight. 
It’s going to be cool before morning.” 

Henry hesitated, then a bright 
idea struck him. If he must wear 
them, he’d loiter about till the lights 
were out, and then no one could 
see what color they were anyway. 
So he ambled out to dry himself and 
stood shivering in the half light. 


46 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


From up at the end of the tent 
street he heard the bugler blow taps. 
One by one the lights went out, and 
suddenly the camp quieted down, 
for it was indeed a serious offense 
for any camper to make a fuss after 
taps. Nights were to sleep, days to 
play, and woe be it to the boy who 
forgot and mixed the schedule! He 
slipped softly back to his bunk, 
fished out those glaring pink silk 
pajamas and pulled them on. Then 
carefully pulling back the covers, he 
slid his feet in. But hardly had he 
stretched himself out when his feet 
touched something cold and clammy. 
Before he knew it he had let out a 
blood-curdling yell that sounded as 
if some one were being slowly tor- 
tured to death. In one leap he was 
clear of the bunk, striking his head 
a terrific bump on the way out. 

He heard Foxie snort as if his head 
were under the covers, and a half 
dozen others giggle, but he was too 


JOINS THE “STUCK-UPS” 47 


terrified to consider just then. It 
was a snake, of that he was positive, 
and already his mind was full of 
wild pictures. He had heard of 
campers crawling into bed with huge 
reptiles that had poisoned them while 
they slept, and as he ran he began 
to wonder just where those little 
red viper pills were that his aunt 
had sent along for just such an 
emergency. Before he knew it, he 
stood trembling outside of the head- 
quarters tent, sobbing “O, Mr. White- 
hall! Mr. Whitehall! there’s a reptile 
in my bed!” 

In a second the Camp Chief was 
at the boy’s side, questioning him 
and trying as best he could to quiet 
him. 

“There must be some mistake, 
lad,” he was saying kindly. “A 
snake couldn’t get into your bed. 
It must have been some of your 
traps that got mixed up in your 
bedding. We’ll go and see.” 


48 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


The entire camp was out of bed 
now, and electric flash-lights flashed 
everywhere. Of course a big group 
had gathered to see what the excite- 
ment was, and accompanied the 
Chief and nerve-racked Henry back 
to his tent. The Chief led the pro- 
cession, and reaching Henry’s dis- 
heveled bunk he flashed on his lan- 
tern and turned back the covers. 
A tremendous shout went up from 
the excited crowd, for there, tied 
with a stout string, sat a huge green 
frog, his smothered diaphragm work- 
ing rapidly and his big eyes blinking 
uncertainly in the yellow light. From 
all appearances, he was much the 
more scared of the two. 

“What kind of a snake is it?” 
murmured Henry, uncertainly, at 
which the boys went wild with 
delight. 

The Chief laughingly tossed the 
frog out into the dark, and then 
looked at Henry, who, in spite of 


* JOINS THE “STUCK-UPS” 49 


his fright, was now laughing with 
the rest. 

“O you pink pajamas!” cried Foxie. 
“I should think they would draw 
frogs!” 

Henry’s face suddenly fell and the 
laugh faded. He was caught again, 
and with them on. His chest was 
heaving a bit in spite of himself, 
and the Chief, being a real human 
weather prophet, predicted “early 
rain,” and so hurried Henry off to the 
headquarters tent with him. Taps 
were blown the second time, but it 
would have taken a hypnotist to have 
put most boys to sleep then. There 
were too many things to talk about 
to go to sleep. 

Mr. Whitehall had just gotten set- 
tled when he thought he heard a 
sniffle, and he knew the “rain” had 
come. 

“That’s all right, Henry,” he said 
kindly. “Remember the oath. He 
who laughs last laughs best, and your 


50 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


turn will come. There will be more 
recruits tomorrow, and perhaps an- 
other pair of pink pajamas, who can 
tell?” 

‘T know it,” sobbed Henry. “But 
I told them not to put those pink 
silk pajamas in, but they insisted. 
Just imagine Foxie or Texas wearing 
pink pajamas in camp!” 

The Chief laughed in spite of him- 
self. “So that’s it, is it? Well, 
forget it, boy. Foxie’s are purple, 
with big pink tapes on them, and 
they are silk. They threw him in 
the lake the first night he wore them, 
and the color all came out on him. 
He was a sight. Now go to sleep.” 

“But, Mr. Whitehall,” said Henry 
after a pause. “I’ve been thinking 
of that oath and I can’t sleep here. 
I must go back to my own bunk 
and be a regular camper. I’m not 
afraid of snakes anyway. May I? 
Good night.” 


STORY III 


IN WHICH HENRY RUGGLES 
GOES HUNTING RABBIT 



4 








STORY III 


IN WHICH HENRY RUGGLES 
GOES HUNTING RABBIT 

Henry and Mr. Whitehall had just 
returned from a visit to the farm, 
where together they had made rep- 
aration for the dead turkey. Farmer 
Knevels, as the Chief had arranged 
it, had not been inclined, at first, 
to take the matter in a very good 
humor, and failed absolutely to see 
why a boy would not know better 
than to club a great turkey gobbler 
to death. But when he listened to 
Henry’s own story of how he was 
sure they were wild birds, and saw 
for himself how repentant the lad 
was (for Henry had without hesita- 
tion offered every cent of his six 
dollars of spending money in pay- 
ment for the dead bird) he mellowed 
considerably and finally accepted the 
53 


54 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


five-dollar note, agreeing not to write 
Henry’s father about the episode 
at all. 

“And the turkey is, of course, 
yours, son,” said the farmer. “I 
hope he’ll have a real wild taste and 
that you will enjoy the treat. Just 
remember there is nothing wild in 
these parts, not even the skunks. 
They’ll come right up and eat out 
of your hand.” 

Henry delivered the final word to 
Sambo to proceed with the cooking 
of the fowl, and told him how it 
had taken about all of his spending 
money. 

“O, that’s easy!” Sam said, with 
the gleam of a happy thought on 
his face. “We’ll fixt that up, Mr. 
Henry. We’ll just sell portions of 
that ’er bird at ‘two bits’ a plate as 
an extra at dinner, and we’ll soon 
make that money back. What do 
you say?” 

“Sambo, you are a genius!” cried 


GOES HUNTING RABBIT 55 

Henry, seeing a chance yet to make 
an impression with his turkey. “Will 
you honestly do it? I’ll whack up 
with you. Say, I’ll sell tickets, and 
every boy that hands in a ticket 
will get a slice of turkey.” Henry 
hurried off with a big smile on his 
face to write up the “turkey tickets.” 
Soon he was disposing of them among 
the campers, and word of the scheme 
did not reach Mr. Whitehall until 
every ticket had been sold and Henry 
was well in possession of the cash. 

Mr. Whitehall then considered 
thoughtfully: Would it be fair to let 
Henry keep that money? Would it 
be fair to take it from him? He was 
sure neither one was just the proper 
thing, and was wondering what he 
had better do about it when the mail 
arrived. He opened his letters hastily 
and glanced through them to see 
what would need immediate atten- 
tion. One little note held his at- 
tention. It was from a chap who 


56 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


had been to camp the preceding 
season and had had the time of his 
life, but because of the death of his 
father could not afford to return 
this year. His heart was with the 
bunch, though, and he had just 
written a little note of cheer to be 
read at the Camp Fire that evening 
at roll call. 

Henry was summoned and the case 
laid squarely before him. In a trice 
he saw that he had no right to the 
money from the turkey after it was 
dressed and cooked in the camp 
kitchen, so he was eager to do what- 
ever Mr. Whitehall would suggest 
about it. 

“Well, Henry, you are a good 
sport, anyway, and we’ll make that 
turkey business a blessing to as fine 
a lad as ever was. We’ll start a 
Turkey Scholarship to Camp Poko- 
koko, and I’ll wire for Jim to come 
on to camp. It will pay his way 
for a week, and next year we’ll take 


GOES HUNTING RABBIT 57 


up a collection to keep it going. 
What do you say.f^” 

‘T like that fine,” said Henry, 
thoughtfully, “all but one thing. I 
don’t want Jim to know where the 
money came from. He’d feel better. 
Can’t you fix that part?” 

Mr. Whitehall assured him that he 
could and would at the Camp Fire 
that night. 

Henry went away with a light 
heart to join Texas and Duke, who 
were just starting for the berry patch 
over the hill. They invited him to 
go along. He was glad to join them, 
and although he was simply bursting 
to tell them about the turkey tickets, 
he kept his peace all the day. They 
had gone through the woods and 
across the pasture lot, and were just 
coming out into a great new field 
that had been plowed for the first 
time. Here and there a great stump 
stood that had not yet been cleared 
away. 


58 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


“What’s that?” cried Texas softly, 
pointing to something white that 
was crouching on a stump fifty yards 
away. Almost instantly the other 
boys saw it and instinctively stopped 
to parley. 

“By crickey, it’s a jack rabbit!” 
said Henry excitedly. “I’ve seen 
pictures of them often, and I read 
not long ago how they inhabit old 
stumps. See, it moves — see? see its 
headH 

‘ ‘Hum ! Better get him, I suppose, ’ ’ 
said Duke. “That turkey of yours 
won’t go around. Let’s all get some 
good ‘donnies’ and we’ll spread out 
in a skirmish line, and when I say 
‘Fire!’ do it — see? But don’t fire 
till we see the white of his tail,” 
he added thoughtfully. “I don’t 
suppose he has any white in his 
eye, and anyway if he had we’re 
looking at him from the wrong end.” 

The boys spread out ten feet apart, 
lay down on their appetite, and 


GOES HUNTING RABBIT 69 


slowly began to advance, eagerness in 
every move. This was far better 
than stalking wild turkeys, and be- 
sides they would not j have to pay 
for the “pesky thing” this time. 
Turkey and rabbit all the same day! 
That would be going some. 

Mr. Rabbit sat calmly, never sus- 
pecting a thing, while the three 
hunters worked their way nearer and 
nearer, selecting choice rocks as they 
came in reach of them. 

“He’s a whopper,” whispered 
Texas. “I’ll bet he’s sound asleep 
in the sun. Hadn’t we ought to 
yell before we fire? Don’t seem like 
it’s square not to give the critter a 
fighting chance.” 

“Let’s do it,” said Duke solemnly, 
“’cause we’re bound to get him 
anyway.” 

They were within a dozen yards 
now, and were crouched in a little 
gully. Suddenly Texas rose and mo- 
tioned them to fire. An avalanche of 


60 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


chosen rocks was his answer, and, boy 
fashion, they went straight to their 
mark. What was their amazement 
to note that the rabbit didn’t even 
leave the stump! 

“We killed him right on the nest,” 
cried Henry. “He never knew what 
hit him. I’ll bet there was a sur- 
prise party in rabbit heaven !” 

The three boys hastened forward 
to capture their prize. Texas was in 
the lead, and when the other two 
reached him he was convulsed with 
laughter, for the rabbit proved only 
to be two field stones that had been 
placed there, no doubt, by the farmer 
while plowing. 

“Mum is the word,” said Texas, 
when he got over his laugh. “We’d 
never hear the last of it if Foxie 
once got it.” 

They made their way to the berries 
and ate their fill, then returned to 
camp along the lake shore. 

“I’m going fishing for bass,” said 


GOES HUNTING RABBIT 61 


Texas. ‘T know where a whole 
family of them live. The old man’s 
so big he’s got whiskers on his chin. 
I’m going to make those minnows 
Doc brought home last night look 
like sardines from the South Sea 
Islands.” 

“What do you catch bass with?” 
questioned Henry. “I’d like to get 
one, too. Dad said I couldn’t get 
one with a fine-toothed comb, and 
that the only bites I’d get would be 
from mosquitoes. Show me how, 
won’t you?” 

“O, it’s easy,” went on Duke. 
“You can use a weedless hook with 
a frog bait or pork rind, or if they 
won’t rise to that, try a common 
artificial bait with gang hooks on it. 
Frogs are plentiful down by the 
swamp.” (Henry shuddered, and 
made up his mind right there he’d 
have to fish with an artificial bait, 
because he would never go near that 
swamp again alone, cows or no cows.) 


6^ CAMPING WITH HENRY 


Upon reaching camp, father’s pre- 
cious steel rod, that had caught 
everything from rainbow trout in 
the Gunnison to muskellunge in the 
Wisconsin lakes, was gotten out and 
jointed together. The wonderful little 
reel that purred like a kitten was 
attached, and after some time spent 
at the camp store a huge green-eyed 
Dowagiac minnow, equipped with at 
least five sets of sharp gangs, was 
purchased and put on the line. 

Henry went down to the long pier 
and practiced casting until his pa- 
tience was worn completely out. 
Texas, without as much as looking 
at what he was doing, could toss 
his weedless and frog as far out as 
the float and wind it in with the 
grace of a born fisherman; but try 
as Henry might, his would tangle 
and snarl, and soon his line and 
precious bait were hopelessly en- 
tangled about an obstreperous bul- 
rush. He was nervous, anyway, at 


GOES HUNTING RABBIT 63 


the joshing that had been passed 
along about his casting. 

“That must be a regular Muskie,” 
cried Fox from the shade of a big 
tree where he was devouring the 
newly arrived sport sheet of the day 
before’s paper. 

Henry, in a moment of disgust, 
gave the pole a terrific yank, snapped 
off the line about twenty-five feet 
out and watched his new bait settle 
slowly into the green and weedy 
depths. 

“You want to be sure to take a 
look at that hook first thing in the 
morning,” called Foxie. “There will 
be a whole school of young whales 
on it. They are just crazy about 
new minnows.” 

It was time to swim in just a 
little, and then would come dinner, 
and then he would go off by himself 
into the little bay and try for a 
bass with a weedless, if he could 
just catch a few frogs for bait. He 


64 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


believed there were frogs to be had 
in other places than the big swamp, 
and after dinner he would find out. 

So it was that as soon as the rest 
hour was over he got an old can, 
avoided the bunch for fear they 
might invite themselves to go along, 
and started north along the shore in 
search of frogs — “small ones that are 
active,” Texas had told him in an- 
swer to his query. 

After thirty moments of trailing 
through the brush and undergrowth 
he came to a wide sandy beach, and 
by the merest accident stumbled 
across a whole village of small hoppers 
that were at play along the water’s 
edge. He gathered them eagerly. 
They were plentiful, and he would 
just catch a bunch for Texas and 
Duke while he was at it. In less 
than no time at all he had at least 
fifty; so many, in fact, that every 
time he opened the can to put 
another one in two would jump out. 


GOES HUNTING RABBIT 65 


Frogs! he had enough to last all 
summer, if he could just arrange to 
feed them and they didn’t grow too 
fast so as to get so big they couldn’t 
be lively. 

He sat down to rest, and as he sat 
his eye caught sight of a long white 
egg lying in the sand. He picked it 
up and examined it carefully, then 
began to look about for the nest 
from which it must have fallen, say- 
ing aloud, as he gazed into the oaks 
overhead : 

“Humph! Lucky that nest was 
over a sand beach, or they would 
have broken, sure!” 

He thought it very odd that he 
could not find the nest, but found 
an explanation in another half dozen 
eggs that lay at his feet. 

“What a chump I am,” he said to 
himself. “These are some sort of 
water fowl’s eggs, and they have 
nested here in the sand. Perhaps 
they are snipe eggs — they are about 


66 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


the right shape, for snipes, I’ve always 
been told, are so longlegged. I’ll take 
a few back to Mr. Helmen and ask 
him. He’ll know all about them.” 

After supper he washed his dishes 
quickly and then started toward the 
lake. Foxie saw him, and hurrying 
to him handed him his lost artificial 
bait, with the remark: 

“Here, Henry, use this one. I 
have several more.” Then he grinned. 

“Why, it’s the same one I lost,” 
cried Henry. 

“I know it,” said Foxie kindly. 
“I got it when I was in swimming.” 

Henry thanked him and went on 
to his boat. He rowed straight for 
the bass grounds, and, attaching the 
big wooden minnow, began to troll 
as he had seen the other boys do. 
Three times he nearly had heart 
failure when his reel had purred and 
the line had spun out. Three times 
his wild hopes were dashed to pieces 
when he pulled in only a mat of 


GOES HUNTING RABBIT 67 


green drifting weeds. The last time, 
after getting the minnow finally 
cleared of weeds, he looked at it 
for some moments, then deliberately 
reached into his open tackle box and, 
taking a stout little pair of pincers, 
calmly removed all the gang hooks 
save the one on the tail, with the 
philosophical comment, “Those side 
hooks are no good anyway but to 
catch those blooming weeds. Now 
it’s plain as day that if Mr. Fish 
swallows that bait those tail hooks 
will get him good and plenty.” He 
fished and fished after that, but with 
no success whatever. 

The sun was setting. The delicate 
evening tints were coloring the placid 
water. Far over in the cat-tails a 
big bull frog was already tuning up 
his croaker, and up at the Inlet a 
pair of “thunder pumpers” were send- 
ing messages to each other with the 
strangest Morse code Henry had ever 
heard. 


68 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


He decided to try his frogs, so 
opened the can, and, although it 
was a decidedly distasteful task, he 
forced the hook through the cold 
jaws and adjusted the legs back over 
the second hook, then fastened them 
with a rubber band as Texas had 
shown him how to do. 

Again he fished and fished, but 
luck was all against him. His zest 
for fishing was fast fading, when 
suddenly he felt a sluggish pull. He 
waited a second, then yanked in his 
line. He was positive he had a fish 
this time, from the way it acted, 
and he at once became excited. He 
didn’t suppose a real whale could 
pull so hard. After careful maneu- 
vering he at last pulled the finny 
monster out of the deep, and as 
quickly dropped him. 

“Why, the blamed thing has 
whiskers!” he gasped. “It must be 
an old one, like the one Texas was 
telling of.” Slowly he drew the 


GOES HUNTING RABBIT 69 


struggling fish toward him, and then 
sat and looked at it. Plainly the 
boy was disappointed. 

“Humph! You’re no bass!” he 
said at last contemptuously. “You’re 
nothing but a devil fish. You look 
just like one anyway, and I wouldn’t 
touch you for a hundred dollars.” 
The catfish, for so it was, slowly 
relaxed its protruding horns and 
settled down in the bottom of the 
boat. 

Henry peered into his tackle box, 
and, finding a second weedless hook, 
he cut the line off well away from 
the catfish, put on the new hook, 
adjusted another bait, and began 
again. In spite of himself he felt 
encouraged. He had not fished many 
minutes when suddenly his reel be- 
gan to sing again and his fine went 
out so fast that he could not hold 
on to the rapidly revolving crank. 
Twice it cracked him sharply on the 
knuckles, and he hastened to change 


70 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


it to his other hand. It was during 
one of these compulsory changes that 
the rod slipped, and before he knew 
it, rod, reel, and all were overboard. 
He was too astonished to speak for 
a full moment, and then he mut- 
tered “darn!” with a vehemence that 
was unmistakable. Fear clutched 
his heart; his father’s precious fishing- 
rod was gone; and yet the only 
satisfaction there was in it all was 
that it had gone with something on 
the other end of it. 

“Oh, Jiminy, but he was a dandy!” 
he cried. “If I only hadn’t lost him! 
Yet Dad always said that the biggest 
muskies usually get away.” Slowly 
he picked up his oars, turned the 
boat in the direction of camp, and 
began to pull for the shore. 

“What luck?” “Where is your 
fish?” “What did you get?” and 
similar remarks greeted him as he 
landed, but he was glum and said 
not a word. Foxie met him on the 


GOES HUNTING RABBIT 71 


pier, bait-box in hand, and ques- 
tioned him sharply, but even he 
could get no satisfaction. He went 
straight to the nature man, with his 
half dozen eggs, and inquired what 
sort of birds they would belong to. 
Mr. Helmen promptly let out such 
an entirely unusual guffaw for his 
quiet dignity that a group quickly 
gathered to see what could have 
occasioned such merriment. 

“Why, boy, those aren’t birds’ 
eggs at all. They are snake eggs!” 

“Snake eggs!” breathed Henry in- 
credulously. “O yes, I know, viper 
eggs,” and he took a hasty departure, 
his cheeks flaming. 

He met Texas coming in from a 
fishing expedition and noted with a 
pang of jealousy the two splendid 
bass he carried on his stringer. 

“What luck, old sport?” he called 
cheerily to Henry. 

“None,” said Henry sadly, “and 
besides I had bad luck. I had a 


72 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


splendid strike, but dropped my pole 
and it’s gone. I’ve got a dandy can 
of frogs for you, though.” 

“Great! Where are they?” said 
Texas enthus astically. “Fishing 
never was better than it is tonight. 
I just came in ’cause I had no more 
bait. Run get them quick, and I’ll 
take you out with me. We’ll get 
two more nice ones yet before dark. 
Aren’t those dandies?” and he held 
up his catch proudly for inspection. 

They were well started when Texas 
took the can, carefully removed the 
lid to get a frog, and then his face 
was filled with consternation. He 
looked at Henry incredulously, then 
back into the can. A smile broke 
through, and then he laughed long 
and loud. 

“Henry, Henry,” he cried in glee. 
“You are sure a greenhorn all right! 
These aren’t frogs at all, boy. They 
are just common young hop-toads.” 

Henry’s face fell and his lip quiv- 


GOES HUNTING RABBIT 73 


ered in spite of himself. He was 
strongly tempted to say, “Well, I 
know it,” when Texas interrupted 
him with a gentler word. 

“There now, don’t go and get hot. 
I didn’t go to upset you. Of course 
you didn’t know. How could you 
when you come from a city? O, 
I’m sorry for you, but I’ll bet you’ll 
learn a few things out here. Frogs 
and toads look enough alike to be 
brothers, but say, bass don’t like 
toads at all.” 

Slowly they returned to camp and 
Texas slipped off to tell the joke. 
He made every fellow promise not 
to tell, but he just couldn’t keep it, 
for every second he kept it to him- 
self it got funnier and funnier, until 
he simply exploded. 

Foxie offered to go first thing in 
the morning to help look for the 
rod, comforting Henry by telling him 
that a bass, if bass it was, would 
never get that pole and line out of 


74 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


the weeds and they would find it. 
Fox was the champion diver of the 
camp, had already rescued a half 
dozen lost rods, and was sure he 
could find Henry’s. 

“Now mind, we’ll go early,” said 
Foxie last thing that night, “and in 
case we find it I’m going to try my 
hand at fishing with toads — ha! ha! 
The idea appeals to me!” 


STORY IV 


m WHICH HENRY RUGGLES 
BECOMES A REAL FISHERMAN 



STORY IV 


IN WHICH HENRY RUGGLES BE- 
COMES A REAL FISHERMAN 

“Hi there! Wake up!” whispered 
Foxie as he violently shook the sleep- 
ing form of Henry. “That bass will 
be going out to dinner and taking 
your father’s pole along as a curio 
if we don’t get a hustle on us.” 

Henry rose, dressed hastily, and 
soon the two boys were off in a boat 
to the bass grounds. Henry was 
just a little doubtful about the exact 
spot, but after a little scouting be- 
lieved he located just where his boat 
had sat the evening before. 

“You ought to have marked it, 
Henry,” said Foxie. “It would have 
been so easy to have cut a notch on 
the gunwale of your boat.” He 
looked at Henry out of the corner 
77 


78 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


of his eye to see if he would 
swallow it. 

Henry meditated a full moment 
before he answered, and then he said, 
as he carefully peered into the water 
in search of the pole, “If we find 
that pole and it has a bass on it 
we’ll mark this one.” 

Foxie was having the time of his 
life to keep from fairly exploding, 
and no doubt he would have blown 
up if he had not just at that mo- 
ment caught sight of a fishline tan- 
gled about a half dozen big bul- 
rushes. 

“Was your line green?” he called. 

“Yes, awfully green,” answered 
Henry, “why?” 

“You row as I tell you,” said 
Foxie, “and we’ll see. There — easy 
on the left oar!” 

In a few moments Foxie was 
slowly pulling in yards of green line 
and at the same time carefully watch- 
ing the water. All he wanted was 


BECOMES A FISHERMAN 79 


to locate the rod, and he must be 
careful not to yank the line out of 
the reel and thereby lose all chances. 
It had been a warm night, and the 
sun was already flooding the placid 
water with warm rays, so that the 
water was delightful. Foxie sat on 
the bow of the boat with his feet 
hanging over. 

“Now I think it is right down 
here,” he said to Henry, “but as I 
have no way of telling what sort 
of a bottom it is, I’m going to hang 
on to the edge of the boat and fish 
around with my posterior extremities 
a bit. I’ve done it so much that 
they are almost prehensile.” 

Henry looked at Foxie with great 
admiration. He hadn’t the least idea 
in the world what he meant, but if 
he said so, that settled it. 

Foxie was in the water now, and 
to Henry’s glee, in less time than it 
takes to tell of it, had gotten hold of 
the pole and pulled it in. 


80 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


“Hurray for you, old man!” cried 
Henry. 

“Now for the bass,” said Foxie, 
not a little proud of his success. He 
began winding up the loose line, 
when suddenly he felt it tighten; 
then he knew the catch had not 
gotten away. 

“We have him, old boy,” he said 
cheerily. “Now keep your eyes 
open.” 

Slowly the line came in, but with- 
out much opposition, and suddenly 
the catch hove into sight. 

Foxie was disgusted beyond 
measure. 

“Bass!” he said. “Why it’s noth- 
ing but a big old leather-back 
turtle.” 

Henry’s hopes were again crushed, 
but he was interested in the big 
struggling turtle. 

“What shall we do with it, Foxie?” 

“O, it will make soup. Let’s save 
him,” said Foxie. “And there’s the 


BECOMES A FISHERMAN 81 


breakfast bugle now. We are late 
for flag-raising, and we’ll catch it.” 

Both boys pulled hard for the 
little dock. 

Mr. Whitehall was called from his 
breakfast to the nearby farm to 
answer a long distance telephone call, 
and shortly afterward a special mes- 
senger from the little city of Corey 
drove into camp with a telegram. 
The messenger was anxious to be off, 
and thought probably there would be 
an answer necessary, so Mr. Helmen 
concluded to open it and see what 
it could be, for a message like that 
was very unusual. 

He read the yellow sheet twice, 
and then laughed aloud as he started 
for pencil and paper to write a reply, 
for reply there must be. 

“Mrs. Ruggles,” he wrote, “have 
no fears. Your son is safe in camp 
and well. Will write at once,” and 
signed Mr. Whitehall’s name. 

“What has happened to my son 


8^ CAMPING WITH HENRY 


Henry?’’ the telegram read. “Have 
had no word from him in three days. 
Wire an anxious and worried mother.” 

“It would take some telegram to 
tell her all that’s happened to the 
kid,” he remarked to one of the 
Leaders. Mr. Whitehall came in just 
then with a smile on his face, too, and 
seeing the men he laughed outright. 

“Long distance from Henry’s 
mother,” he said. “She had tears 
in her voice, and urged me to tell 
her the truth if anything had gone 
wrong. The kid in a passion of filial 
love promised her he would write 
morning and evening. I’ll wager my 
hat he hasn’t even mailed a postal 
in three days.” 

He went to the window and called 
Henry from his breakfast. 

“Say, boy, when did you write 
home?” he said kindly, as his eyes 
ran over the telegram. 

“Why, I wrote day before yester- 
day a big letter,” he said. 


BECOMES A FISHERMAN 83 


“Are you sure? I was just talk- 
ing to your mother and she says 
she hasn’t had even a postal from 
you yet, and she is worried sick for 
fear a poison snake or something has 
killed you. I had to assure her 
positively three times that you were 
not sick in bed and that your hands 
and legs were all whole. You wrote 
a big letter, you say? Strange ” 

“Yes, Mr. Whitehall,” said Henry, 
his face coloring scarlet, “but I just 
now remembered I — I — forgot to mail 
it. It’s in my trunk.” 

“You be sure to get a big fat one 
in this morning’s mail,” laughed Mr. 
Whitehall, “or your Dad will be 
dropping in on you in an airship 
to see if you are really alive.” 

All day long Henry trailed 
around behind Duke and Lefty, 
helping them some, but just watch- 
ing them mostly, as they worked on 
their tests for their Efficiency Pen- 
nant. It took him some time to 


84 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


catch on to the idea, but when 
once he did he became tremendously 
enthusiastic over it. Yet it did not 
occur to him that he, too, by per- 
sistent effort, might win an efficiency 
honor. 

The Camp Fire that evening was 
given over to the awarding of the 
pennants. Boy after boy was called 
to the front, and after a little speech 
was awarded his Honor Pennant. 
Henry felt a strong yearning in his 
heart. If he could but get an Honor 
Pennant he was sure they would no 
longer look at him as a green city 
chap. He was aroused from his 
thoughts by nine rousing cheers for 
Texas and Foxie. 

‘‘They are, they are, they are all 
right!” and he joined in with all 
his strength. 

“The Camp is proud to award these 
pennants. It is a great thing for a 
boy to achieve for himself, and to 
attempt and do things he has always 


BECOMES A FISHERMAN 85 


thought he could not do. It’s a 
greater thing for a boy, nowadays, 
to be famihar with the names of 
the common birds, trees, and flowers, 
and to be able to identify and tell 
something of interest about the dif- 
ferent wild animals of field and 
stream. It enlarges a boy’s interest 
tremendously, and opens up whole 
avenues of new and interesting ex- 
periences. If you want to be always 
young and be a boy, keep in close 
touch with Nature and her myriad 
of wild folks. 

“There are some things a city 
chap knows, but there are a few 
others that he is not familiar with. 
I have him sized up about like this: 
He knows all the latest movie stars 
by name and salary, and is well 
versed in every line of latest ragtime 
music. He can name the brands of 
all the popular cigarettes, and tell 
you who has the greatest batting 
average in all the pinhead leagues. 


86 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


He knows who holds the feather- 
weight championships, who coached 
the Pumpkin Center Aggregation last 
season, and what the latest sensa- 
tion at the vaudeville is; but to 
save his soul he can’t tell a red oak 
from a weeping willow, or a poison 
sumac from a sweetbrier. All the 
birds in creation are either English 
sparrows or crows, all toads are bull- 
frogs, and every little cricket is a 
potato-bug. He handles an ax as 
if he were paring corns, and he would 
starve to death in a grocery store 
if he had to prepare his own meals. 

“He never saw a cock cardinal or 
a jenny wren’s nest. He often mis- 
takes June bugs for doodle bugs, and 
every insect that smells a bit ob- 
noxious is either a granddaddy long- 
legs or a stinkbug. A brown thrasher 
is a shitepoke, and a kingfisher is a 
hoot owl or an especially large hum- 
ming-bird. Tame domestic turkeys, 
calmly seated on rail fences, are wild 


BECOMES A FISHERMAN 87 


birds that should be exterminated 
without delay, and a plaintive note of 
a tree toad is a turtle-dove calling 
its mate. In short, the average — I 
say average, because now and then 
you do find a boy who has really 
heard the call of the wild and an- 
swered it in so far as his circum- 
stances will permit — the average boy 
is woefully ignorant of the whole 
outdoors with its myriad of interests, 
that far surpass the superficial, 
‘gaiety notes’ of city life. 

“It has taken millions of population 
and generations of time to develop 
a few such men as John Burroughs, 
Izaak Walton, Henry Thoreau, Lu- 
ther Burbank, Enos Mills, John Muir 
and others. Still, by common con- 
sent we acknowledge that these men, 
because of their vast knowledge of 
nature and wood lore, have found 
the real fountain of youth, the one 
inexhaustible supply of pure un- 
adulterated joy. 


88 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


“There is one thing certain, how- 
ever — when a fellow has won his 
Efficiency Pennant he is no longer 
a tenderfoot, but a real outdoors 
man. And I’m hoping every chap 
about this fire tonight will make an 
honest effort to take an Honor 
Pennant home.” 

Henry’s mind was made up. He 
would get one of those pennants at 
no matter what cost, and he knew 
that Foxie would help him. He was 
perfectly conscious that he had not 
proven very adept at identifying 
animals, but he believed he had 
learned some things and he would 
learn more. 

That very evening he had occa- 
sion to go down to the locker house 
just before turning in for the night 
to get his sweater, and just as he 
was leaving he thought he saw some- 
thing crouching in the corner. It 
was fur, he was sure of that; and 
at once went in search of a stick to 


BECOMES A FISHERMAN 89 


poke it up a bit, so he could see it 
better. But, finding none, he re- 
turned to the tent, borrowed Texas’ 
electric flash and came back to 
investigate, for perhaps it would 
count as one of the five animals 
he must find and identify. 

In two minutes he was back again, 
and in answer to Texas’ question he 
replied very disgustedly: 

“O, it was nothing but a cat.” 

“A cat.?” said Texas. “You’re 
dreaming! I’ve been here two seasons 
now and I never saw a cat on the 
camp grounds. I’ll bet a doughnut 
it was a woodchuck or a big squirrel. 
What would a cat be doing around 
here?” 

An argument followed, and finally 
Mr. Helmen was induced to go along 
to pass final judgment. There were 
a dozen pajama-clad boys equipped 
with flash lights who started with 
the nature man. When within a 
few yards of the building they were 


90 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


all quieted down, so as not to “scare 
the beast away.” 

Mr. Helmen was in the lead by a 
distance of ten feet, and cautiously 
flashed his light in the corner Henry 
directed. One look was enough. He 
instantly turned and ran as fast as 
his long legs would carry him, waving 
the crowd to follow. The astonished 
boys drew up at the pump and de- 
manded an explanation from the 
laugh-choked Helmen. 

“What in thunder was it?” drawled 
Texas. “All I saw was a long white 
stripe down its back.” 

“Skunk,” laughed Mr. Helmen 
tumultuously. “An honest-to-good- 
ness skunk, eating a freshly killed 
chicken.” Then turning to Henry 
he added, between gasps, “Henry, 
we’d have had to bury you alive if 
you had petted that kittie, and then 
what could we have told your 
mother!” 

The giggles were contagious, and 


BECOMES A FISHERMAN 91 


soon the entire camp was gathered 
about, talking of Henry’s new dis- 
covery. 

“That counts for one of my five 
animals anyway,” declared the 
camper. 

“But a skunk isn’t a cat,” ob- 
jected Lefty. 

“O, yes, it is, too,” declared Mr. 
Helmen. “It’s a polecat, and it 
ought to count.” 

After Devotions the next morning 
Henry started for the woods to see 
what he could find. He was sure 
to find his twenty-five flowers, but 
he was not so sure about the balance 
of his animals. 

Noon found him still wandering 
here and there in the timber at the 
edge of the old Spatter-dock Swamp, 
vainly in search of his twenty-fifth 
wild flower. He had not fared so 
well with the animals, for a lonely 
tree toad and a grey squirrel were 
all that had crossed his path. But 


92 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


he had discovered flowers galore, and 
he was happy in his success. He 
had sat down on an old moss-grown 
stump to count them before starting 
back, and found he had but twenty- 
four. He just must find one more. 

“Perhaps there would be something 
new over in that sumac thicket,” 
he said, as he rose and started 
toward it. It was thick and close, 
and many young grape vines had 
woven their way in and out until 
it was an immense open meshwork 
of leaves and twigs and tendrils 
interwoven in wild confusion. He 
was about to turn back when he 
caught sight of a beautiful stalk of 
wild larkspur, and he struggled on, 
determined to pluck it. 

He was looking about to find the 
best way out of the tangle, his heart 
glad, for he had succeeded with the 
flowers, when he saw just ahead of 
him the oddest blossom he had ever 
seen. It was so large that it at- 


BECOMES A FISHERMAN 9S 


traded his attention, and its pearl- 
grey color and odd conical shape 
looked so interesting he decided that, 
although he didn’t need it, he would 
carry it back to camp, for he was 
sure no one else had found one like 
it. With difficulty he worked his 
way to it, and at once saw its stem 
was too heavy to pull, so taking out 
his knife he crouched ready to cut it. 

What happened next he was un- 
able to tell exactly. All he knew 
was that in the twinkling of an eye, 
in less than one-tenth of a second, 
his poor entangled head became the 
focus for a dozen irate wasps; for 
Henry Ruggles, in his eager search 
for botanical specimens, had crudely 
picked an enormous paper wasps’ 
nest. Fortunately for the lad, it 
was in the heat of a summer’s day 
and the bulk of the population were 
out of the nest flying in the timber. 
Henry screamed for help, while his 
arms went wildly about like the wings 


94 CAMPING WITH HENRY 

of a great Dutch windmill. He 
forgot his flowers, and thought only 
of his fast swelling countenance. His 
nose was on fire, and already one 
eye w'as so swollen he could scarcely 
see. 

Just how he ever extricated him- 
self from that tangle of vines and 
low-hanging shrubs he could not tell, 
but after a desperate struggle he 
found iiimself free, with the villains 
still pursuing. Fortunately, he had 
retained his hat, and once in the 
clearing he gave desperate battle. 

The sun never shone on a sorrier 
sight than Henry Ruggles as he 
trudged off to camp, one cheek and 
his chin twice their normal size, and 
three huge welts on his head and 
neck, to say nothing of the one just 
under his left eye. He was crying, 
of course. Who wouldn’t be, that 
was at all human? But, if the truth 
could only be known, the thing that 
hurt far worse than the smarting 


BECOMES A FISHERMAN 95 


wasp-stings was the knowledge that 
once more his ignorance had gotten 
him into trouble that was painful. 

He took pains not to explain fully 
just how he had come by his wounds, 
and simply stated that while coming 
through the brush he had knocked 
down a big wasps’ nest and they 
had gotten him when he fell. There 
was some comfort in the fact that 
the boys made a hero of him, and 
that he was put to bed and had a 
lovely dinner served to him in the 
hospital tent. 

He used his forced confinement to 
write a big letter to his father, and 
among other interesting facts he told 
him that he was working hard to 
get an Efficiency Pennant; and as he 
came to the close he could not re- 
strain himself from adding, “And, 
Daddy, believe me, I am having 
some adventures. I don’t know 
what I’d do if it wasn’t for Texas. 
He’s saved my life a half dozen 


96 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


times, and I’ve learned that a wasp 
is a bug with an ice pick on the 
end of its tail.” 

Mr. Ruggles read that paragraph 
over and over, and then with a scowl 
on his usually happy face he tore the 
letter into bits and tossed it into 
the waste basket, with the remark, 
‘T don’t know what the kid can 
possibly mean, but I guess his aunt 
had better not read that one. We’d 
have to start off to that camp yet 
tonight.” 


STORY V 


IN WHICH HENRY RUGGLES 
PROVES HIS NERVE 





STORY V 


IN WHICH HENRY RUGGLES 
PROVES HIS NERVE 

“The rope is out of the flag pole, 
Sir,” said the bugler who was respon- 
sible for getting the flag on to the 
halyards each morning ready for the 
raising. 

“Out of the pulley?’ said the 
Chief in surprise. “I knew that the 
wind blew a gale all night, but I 
didn’t think it was that bad. Well, 
the old pole will have to come down 
to be restrung, that’s all. We’ll 
dispense with the flag raising this 
morning.” 

Henry had overheard the conversa- 
tion and was now busy sizing up 
the pole. There was one thing he 
could do, and that was climb. Sud- 
denly it dawned upon him that 
perhaps this was his chance. The 
99 


100 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


way he had borne up under the 
fierce attack by the wasps had made 
him friends, and he was anxious to 
follow it up and take advantage of 
his opportunity. 

“I can climb it easy, Mr. White- 
hall. Will you let me try?” he said 
eagerly. 

Mr. Whitehall considered. “But 
if you should fall, boy, what then? 
It’s pretty slender at top. O yes, 
it would hold you. It’s seasoned 
hickory. I’m not afraid of that, but 
it’s the chance of falling ” 

“O, I won’t fall,” urged Henry. 
“If I find it too hard I’ll come down.” 

“Well, if you’d like to try,” said 
the Chief half reluctantly, “we’ll let 
you. The pole is set in cement and 
it would be a big job to dig it up. 
I’ll tell you — we’ll get the canvas we 
use for blanket tossing, pick out a 
reliable crew to man it, and then, 
if you should fall, we’ll catch you.” 

Every camper was instantly alert 


PROVES HIS NERVE 101 


and anxious to get on the “reliable 
crew.” Henry stripped off his blouse 
and put on a pair of tennis slippers. 
The end of the rope was fastened 
loosely through his belt and he was 
ready. His face was solemn and his 
teeth set. He simply must make 
good. Every last boy in camp was 
watching him, and if he failed — 
well, he wasn’t going to, that was 
all there was to it. 

The big canvas was stretched tight, 
and under the Chief’s command the 
strongest boys stood ready to move 
instantly to the spot of danger. 
Henry started amid a lot of loud 
talk and many suggestions yet he 
heard them not. His crisis had 
come, and his whole attention was 
being given to the pole. He climbed 
easily the first thirty feet and then 
stopped to rest. Already the pole 
was beginning to sway with his 
weight, but he was determined. 

He started again, coolly and de- 


102 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


liberately, keeping his eye on the 
gently rattling pulley all the while. 
It was his goal. In a moment or 
two he was past the big knot. Just 
the slender skinned tip was above 
him now. Once he looked down on 
the sea of upturned faces. The 
laughter was gone. They were all 
eager and interested, and some a bit 
anxious, for the pole was swaying 
considerably. 

He heard the Chief talking to him, 
and urging him to go slowly, to take 
all the time he needed, and above all 
not to get excited. But he was 
excited; he couldn’t help it. He was 
sweating profusely and he could feel 
his heart pounding violently. In 
spite of himself his legs would quiver 
as he wound them about the slender 
pole. 

Two more feet and by a stretch he 
could reach the pulley. It took a 
tremendous effort, yet before he 
realized it he was there. He reached 


Proves his nerve iob 


eagerly for the rope, while he held 
on firmly with one hand. The free 
hand trembled so violently that he 
feared he would drop the rope. 

He was reaching now, O so eagerly 
— yes, the end was through the 
pulley. A great shout went up 
from the crowd below, and then 
Henry did a foolish thing. He had 
not estimated the weight of the rope 
hanging along the pole, and instead 
of feeding it through slowly until it 
would, in a measure, balance itself, 
he reached to catch the inserted end, 
expecting to pull the balance through; 
but lo, his foot slipped — ^just a trifle 
to be sure, yet enough to frighten 
him, and he grabbed frantically for 
the pole. 

It all happened in a second. Like 
a flash of lightning the short end of 
the rope ran out of the pulley and 
Henry found himself clinging to the 
top of the pole empty-handed. His 
boy’s heart sank within him. He 


104 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


had failed, for there was no way 
under heaven for them to get the 
rope back to him. He hesitated just 
a moment, and then began to let 
himself down. 

They were shouting something 
about “Hard luck, old boy!” and 
“Dirty shame!” but it was all one 
shout of defeat to him. 

The Chief was very kind, though, 
and insisted that he had made a 
good try and was a real sport. He 
took him over to a big chair in the 
shade and made him rest. It was 
while he was resting that Foxie 
saved the day. 

“We’re a bunch of boobs!” he 
cried. “Nobody could make a go 
of such a stunt! We’ll get that rope 
up there yet, old boy, see if we don’t. 
When you get good and rested, if 
you think you have pep enough to 
try again, we’ll show them. 

“What we ought to have done was 
to coil that rope in a neat coil and 


PROVES HIS NERVE 105 


then hang it on your arm where it 
would be out of the way, and give 
you the heavy tapped end to thread 
with; then there wouldn’t be any 
weight on the short end and you 
could take it in your hand and 
bring it down the pole with you.” 

“That sounds logical,” said Texas. 
“Let’s get her ready.” 

In a few moments Henry was at 
it again. He went slower this time, 
for he realized better just what was 
before him. He reached the big knot 
a second time and took a good rest, 
then went on to the top in spite of 
the breeze that had risen and in 
spite of the aching legs. 

Cautiously he shoved the tapped 
end through. It hung nicely. He 
braced himself to catch the end. 
Ah! he had it in his hand. He had 
won, and a cheer went up from 
below that brought a smile to his 
sweating face. He held the end 
tightly to the pole, while he used 


106 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


his other hand to lift the coil from 
his arm, just as the Chief had cau- 
tioned him to do. It was off, and 
he was just fixing to descend, when 
suddenly his head began to whirl 
and his legs went weak. 

“Oh, I’m falling!” he cried, and 
in that instant he fell into space. 

The Chief’s face had never left 
the figure on the pole. In the 
twinkling of an eye he had, in a 
stern voice that could not be dis- 
obeyed, ordered the crew to “be 
ready.” 

Foxie saw the situation and saved 
the day, for every lad was dazed 
and wits don’t always work fast at 
such times, especially when you see 
some one else dashing to destruc- 
tion. 

“All together!” he cried, tightening 
his grip on the canvas. It was the 
usual signal with the canvas, and 
the crew obeyed instantly. 

Henry struck the canvas hke a 


PROVES HIS NERVE 107 


rock from a housetop. More than 
half of the boys lost their hold on 
the edge, yet the fall was broken, 
and an instant later Henry Ruggles 
lay on the ground, the canvas under 
him, and his face as ashen as the 
sheet. Suddenly a tremendous shout 
went up from the group, for Henry 
held tight in his hand the tapped 
end of the rope. The halyard was 
up again ! A dash of cold water 
brought the lad back to life, and in 
another second he was the hero of 
Camp Pokokoko. 

‘T told you we’d do it!” cried 
Foxie, swelling all up. “It’s easy 
when you know how. Gentlemen, 
let me introduce you to the human 
monkey. He scales the clouds like 
a ” 

“‘We killed a bear!’” shouted 
Texas in disgust. 

“Let’s raise the flag,” shouted 
Lefty, “to celebrate.” And as Old 
Glory caught the breeze the usual 


108 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


salute was forgotten and nine rousing 
cheers for Henry took its place. 

Henry’s eyes sparkled and a chuckle 
escaped his lips as he thought what 
Auntie would have done if she had 
seen him fall. But it was all worth 
while. He was a real camper now, 
for he had achieved, and he was 
happy. 

“Let’s have turtle for dinner,” 
said Duke. “I’m getting ashamed 
to look a baked bean in the face.” 

“It’s a go,” shouted Texas. “Foxie 
has the lines and the necessary large 
hooks. Let’s get at it.” 

A stout line was strung from Bass 
Point to a whitened pole that stuck 
up fifty yards out in the narrows. 
Each hook was baited with a dead 
fish, and the campers returned to 
shore to put in the morning at some- 
thing else. They cruised the lake in 
the big war canoe, racing every little 
motor boat they could find. They 
investigated twenty birds’ nests that 


PROVES HIS NERVE 109 


were scattered from the marsh to the 
orchard. They sampled at least a 
dozen varieties of green apples, and 
finally wound up at Dewberry hill 
where they ate great ripe berries 
until they could stand no more. 

“O have a few more,” urged 
Texas. 

“Can’t! My appetite is completely 
berried now,” said Foxie. 

“O bum joke,” cried a half dozen, 
“into the lake with him!” 

In a trice Foxie was grabbed 
bodily and borne down to the shore, 
two fellows holding at each leg and 
arm. Foxie was laughing so hard 
he could not offer resistance. 

“One, two, three!” shouted Texas 
joyously, and Foxie was tossed un- 
ceremoniously into the water. 

“ ’Bout time to go look at that 
set line,” drawled Texas. “I’ll bet 
we have at least a half dozen.” 

“Keep your eye peeled for pussie 
cats,” warned Lefty, as they wound 


110 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


their way down through the dense 
second growth. 

“Gracious! take a look at that 
patch of skunk cabbage,” said Foxie. 
“I wonder what good it is.” 

“Why, the pole-cats make sauer 
kraut of it,” said Texas, and then 
he ran, for he realized full well that it 
was his turn for a mauling this time. 

Just as the gang were emerging 
from the woods some one turned up 
a big box turtle, which of course 
occasioned another pow-wow. They 
tried every way they could imagine 
with the implements at hand to force 
the box and get a look at the animal 
inside, but absolutely failed. 

“How old is it, do you suppose?” 
asked Lefty, who was much interested 
in the hard armor plate. 

“We can’t tell till we find his 
tail,” said Foxie. “They have a 
spine on their tail for each year, just 
as a rattler has a rattle. But we’ll 
soon find out.” 


PROVES HIS NERVE 111 


Foxie set about cutting a pry out 
of a hickory sapling, and soon he 
was ready to begin to force the 
turtle to give up its age. 

“Which end shall I operate on?” 
he questioned. 

“This end is the one.” 

“No, this one.” 

“No, no; you’re crazy! This 
one.” 

“Let’s toss and see which is heads 
and which is tails,” laughed Texas, 
and so they did. 

Foxie held the box turtle firmly 
between his knees and began to pry 
at the end determined upon, but had 
very little success. Suddenly the 
horny trap door was released and a 
small serpentine head on a long 
telescoped neck darted out at his 
fingers like an old setting hen. He 
was so surprised he dropped pry 
and all and tumbled over back- 
ward. 

“Samanthie’s pet cat!” he groaned. 


112 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


“Did you see that mouth? That 
old boy has a Jack-in-the-box beaten 
a mile.” 

When they picked the turtle up 
again the trap door was of course 
drawn tight, and it was again a 
mooted question as to just which 
door the old rascal had really opened, 
the front or the back. 

“Let’s cut our initials on its back,” 
suggested Lefty. “I’ve heard of such 
things being done and people finding 
them a hundred years later.” 

So, suiting the action to the word, 
the sculpturing was begun. It was 
found to be no easy job, but after 
nearly an hour’s scratching the turtle 
was released, carrying seven hand- 
engraved calling cards on its back 
and a “Camp Pokokoko” prominently 
carved on what might properly be 
termed the wishbone. 

Just before noon they reached 
camp, and with much ceremony 
pulled in their set line. There proved 


PROVES HIS NERVE 113 


to be three large turtles on it — two 
huge leather-backs and one old snap- 
per that had a generous growth of 
moss on his back. The two leather- 
backs were taken to camp and the 
trout line set a second time. 

“Henry wants to dress them,” 
said Foxie, with a sly wink at the 
others, “so he’ll know just how to 
do it next time.” 

Henry consented good-naturedly to 
be the butcher, and was dispatched 
to the fish table back of the Lodge 
to behead the turtles so they could 
bleed, and Foxie said that after 
dinner he would give him lessons in 
how to skin and prepare them ready 
for frying. Henry went proudly to 
the fish table, a turtle in each hand, 
deposited them in a tub, and went 
to the kitchen to get a cleaver. He 
soon returned, but both turtles had 
drawn head and tail up into their 
shells, and the novice was in a 
quandary just how to get them to 


114 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


stick out their heads so they could 
be slaughtered. 

Finally a bright idea came, and 
picking them up one at a time by 
a sharp flipper he hung them, as he 
supposed, head downward. Slowly 
there was a protuberance and it was 
quickly chopped off with a vengeance. 

He tossed the butchered “sea fowl” 
on the grass and hastened in to 
dinner, satisfied with his job. 

Foxie finished first and hurried out 
to get started on the skinning process. 
To his surprise, both turtles were 
gone. He hastily summoned Henry 
to account for the beasts, but the 
boy had no excuses. He had cut off 
both heads, and now they were gone. 

After a careful search one and then 
the other was discovered some hun- 
dred yards away in the tall thick 
weeds headed straight for the water. 

Foxie found the first one, and when 
once he saw it he set up such a to-do 
that all the crowd hurried to see 


PROVES HIS NERVE 115 


what he had discovered. He held up 
the struggling animal, and promptly 
out darted the long neck and head 
in anger. 

“Suffering cat-fish!” ejaculated 
Foxie in disgust. “You are a great 
camper!” and then he burst into a 
flood of merriment. 

“O Henry, you cut off their tails 
instead of their heads.” 

The campers yelled with delight, 
while Foxie took the leather-backs 
back to the table and re-operated. 
Henry watched the process very 
carefully until it was completed and 
the pieces of white meat were washed 
and delivered to Sambo. 

The gang were descending the hill 
together to arrange their beds and 
get their tent in shape for noon 
inspection when Henry startled them 
with some news. 

“Say, you Royal Stuck-Ups, listen 
to me! IVe got the greatest scheme 
you ever heard of. I’ve been creating 


116 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


fun for this bunch long enough. Now 
let’s play the next act. What do 
you say?” 

“What’s the idea?” questioned 
Texas. 

“Well, you know that Olsen that 
arrived yesterday?” 

They all nodded. 

“Well, he’s greener than I ever 
was. Let’s do a stunt. It won’t 
hurt him a bit, and it will make that 
Stuck-Up game look like a plain 
game of checkers. Will you do it?” 

A long secret conference followed, 
at which Olsen was the main topic. 

“Henry, you’re a wonder,” cried 
Foxie thirty minutes later. “That 
will be the best stunt yet. Saturday 
night is the night. I’ll get the cat; 
you leave it to me.” 


STORY VI 


IN WHICH HENRY RUGGLES 
CONDUCTS A COON HUNT 


1 

I 




\ 

I 




V 


N 


STORY VI 


IN WHICH HENRY RUGGLES 
CONDUCTS A COON HUNT 

“Mother’s coming Visitors’ Day,” 
said Henry after finishing his sixteen- 
page letter. “Believe me. I’ll bet 
she will be glad to see m^, too. Why, 
she’s never been away from me two 
weeks before in her life.” 

“I’m glad she’s coming,” com- 
mented Foxie. “Mine isn’t and per- 
haps yours will bring enough eats 
for the whole tent. I’d give my old 
Ingersoll for one bite of homemade 
chocolate cake — the kind that smears 
all over your face and you can taste 
for an hour. My mother knows just 
how to make it, I tell you that!” 

“Say,” said Henry thoughtfully, 
“my mother certainly will be sur- 
prised to see how the camp works. 
She had the queerest notions about 
119 


120 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


boys’ camps you ever heard of, and 
the morning I started I know blessed 
well that she thought she’d never 
see me again. Isn’t it funny the 
notions mothers get about things? 
She won’t let me play ball on the 
corner lot ’cause there are always a 
few loud mouths, and when I sug- 
gested I’d like to enter the All City 
Field-meet she was afraid my heart 
wasn’t strong enough for such ‘violent 
exertion,’ I think she called it. She 
just wants me to read books and 
go to Sunday school, and dress up. 
I’ve thought of running away several 
times, but Dad, he knows better 
about things, and he got it fixed up. 
I never would have gotten to come 
to old Pokokoko if it hadn’t been 
for him. Gee! but I’ll be proud to 
show little ‘Momsey’ this tan. Isn’t 
it a beaut? And believe me, I’m 
going to dive off the high board 
just to show her, and go into every 
race they have all day.” 


CONDUCTS A COON HUNT 121 


“Say, Henry, there is one thing 
you haven’t thought of before, but 
it might happen. I’ve seen it happen 
several times, and it came near 
happening to me my first season here. 
My mother was so glad to see me 
she wanted me to go home with her. 
She said she thought I had played 
savage long enough now, and she 
found my clothes a little soiled and 
she thought every stitch of them 
ought to go to the laundry. Dad 
saved my life and said ‘No.’ Gee! 
but I was glad, for I won the aquatic 
medal by staying, and met some of 
the best Leaders that old Poko has 
ever had. But what I was really 
thinking of was this — if she should 
want you to go it would spoil that 
coon hunt.” 

Henry thought for a moment. “I 
simply can’t go, that’s all. I hadn’t 
even thought of it that way. But 
say, if she should insist! My gra- 
cious, Foxie, we have just got to 


CAMPING WITH HENRY 


have that. That’ll be more fun than 
a balloon ascension. Say, let’s do it 
tonight. I can get my part ready. 
I talked to Mr. Knevels and he said 
I could have the old tomcat if I’d 
take care of him.” 

‘Tt’s a go. Let’s do her tonight. 
It’s going to be full moon, you know, 
and we can see where to go so much 
better. Think he’ll bite, do you?” 

“Bite! Why, boy. Happy Olsen 
would bite at anything, and when 
he gets excited he stutters like a 
threshing machine. Yesterday they 
sent him away down to the farm to 
help Mr. Knevels unload post-holes 
and told him to bring back the milk 
pump with him. He came back 
in a little while and said Mr. Knevels 
had them all ‘planted’ and that the 
milk pump wasn’t there. Now what 
do you think of that? I never was 
that green.” 

“You know they had that other 
new chap watering that potato field 


CONDUCTS A COON HUNT 123 


with a bucket. He never did catch 
on. But say, after all, Happy is a 
dandy chap. He just gets one bite 
out of his candy, and he’ll lend you 
anything he has; and snore — my 
gracious! Sounds like the exhaust 
on a freight engine.” 

“Did you hear Parkie talking in 
his sleep last night?” 

“No. What did he say?” 

“I never laughed so hard in my 
life. I wouldn’t have missed it for 
anything. He was having an argu- 
ment over who was the best all- 
round quarterback in the country, 
and he sure had things mixed up.” 

The bugle for supper sounded from 
the hill, and the two pals made a 
dive for their tent to get on a shirt. 

“Remember then, right after the 
Camp Fire,” called Foxie. 

“I’ll be on deck with bells on,” 
called Henry. “Be sure you get the 
dull ax.” 

The camp fire had died low. The 


124 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


entire list of songs had been sung 
with a vengeance. Mr. Helmen had 
finished his little talk on birds. Far 
over at the Kizer Inlet the great 
harvest moon was just coming out of 
the water and casting its shimmering 
ribbon of gold across the ripples. 
From somewhere came the melody 
of a quartet of happy songsters. 
Quiet had settled down on the boys. 
They were spellbound and just con- 
tent to sit and dream. 

“This is the kind of night they 
hunt coons on the Gulf of Mexico,” 
said Texas in his friendly drawl. 

“Tell us about a coon hunt, Texas,” 
urged Foxie, while Henry excused 
himself and disappeared in the dark- 
ness. 

“I should think there would be 
some around here,” said Texas, in 
no hurry whatever to begin his story. 

“Their hides are beautiful, aren’t 
they?” queried Foxie. 

“Great!” answered Texas with en- 


CONDUCTS A COON HUNT 125 


thusiasm, “and it’s real excitement 
to tree one and bag it. It’s lots more 
fun than shooting him, and you get 
him alive. They make great pets in 
a little while. I’ve thought several 
times I saw signs of them over by 
that old swamp. Wish we had a 
hound, we’d investigate.” 

“Tell us a coon hunt story, Texas,” 
begged Happy Olsen. 

“I’d rather take you on a real 
hunt than tell you about one,” 
quickly answered Texas. (That was 
just the opening he had been push- 
ing for.) 

“Why, Mr. Knevels has a hound,” 
volunteered some one. “I’m sure 
he would let us borrow him for an 
evening.” 

“Say it — it — it would be gr — ^great 
if we had a pet coo — co — coon,” 
cried Happy, dancing about. “We 
would ca-ca — call him King Po-po- 
po — kokoko, and he’d be our mascot.” 

Everybody was in a fever of 


126 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


excitement at once. Anything in 
the way of an adventure was always 
acceptable; whether it was to hunt 
coon or trap elephants, it made little 
difference. 

“Let’s get the dog,” shouted Lefty, 
“ — it won’t take but a few moments 
to get him — and make a try. I was 
over by the swamp after supper 
looking for blackberries and I saw 
the funniest mound of fresh earth. 
I was going to investigate, but just 
then the assembly called for the 
Camp Fire. There is some animal 
over there, that’s sure; and it isn’t 
a skunk either.” 

“That settles it,” cried Mr. Hel- 
men. “I’m in for a coon hunt or 
any other kind of a hunt this glorious 
night. Such nights come but once 
a year. It’s a right down shame 
to go to bed. Chief, what do you say 
— can we have a little frolic?” 

“I’m for it,” said the Chief good- 
humoredly. “I’m not just exactly 


CONDUCTS A COON HUNT 127 


sure we are in the coon belt, but 
perhaps we can find a bull moose.” 
Everybody roared, for Henry had 
written home about his moose expe- 
rience, and then forgotten and left 
the letter on the table and every boy 
in camp had read it. 

“Now just how do you do it, 
Texas?” he asked, as the noise sub- 
sided. 

“Well,” said Texas, with furtive 
glances at Foxie for his cue. (Foxie 
was trying to tell him what to do 
by a series of strange grimaces, but 
Texas was unable to understand. 
He realized, however, that he must 
keep them from starting too soon, 
so as to give Henry time to get 
fixed.) 

“Well, it’s like this,” said Texas 
at length. “They usually have a 
pack of dogs, and we can get only 
one. Now the only thing that keeps 
a coon treed until you can get to 
him is to surround the tree with 


128 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


dogs that will keep up the yapping. 
So what we had better do is all to 
practice yapping awhile, so we can 
act as dogs. It would be a shame 
to tree a coon and then lose him.” 

The idea pleased the crowd im- 
mensely. In thirty seconds every 
known species of dog on earth was 
being ably represented about the 
fire. It was great fun, and lasted 
several minutes. 

“Now we have no gun, so we 
must bag our game,” continued 
Texas. “It’s just about as easy, 
anyway. You turn the dogs loose 
to scour the woods first, and if they 
find a fresh scent they will set up 
a great to-do. You hurry to the 
tree, and then if you have a coon 
you will be able to see his eyes 
shining in the dark. You carefully 
cut the tree, and then rush in with 
a grain sack and bag the coon. 
He’s of course so scared by the 
hullabaloo that it never occurs to 


CONDUCTS A COON HUNT 129 


him to run. Then you tie the bag 
to a long pole and take him home. 

“Foxie, you get the dog, Lefty, 
you get a big grain sack, and we’ll 
scare up the lanterns. O yes, and 
an ax and a bit of rope.” 

The boys were off, and every- 
body that had no special thing to 
do just stood around in groups and 
speculated. 

“Happy is some rail splitter!” 
cried some one. 

“You ju — ju — just bet I am,” 
cried Happy. “I wa — want to cho — 
chop that tree!” 

In twenty minutes the boys were 
back with the dog, a huge grain 
sack, and the lanterns. Mr. Helmen 
suggested a shovel to investigate the 
mound of fresh dirt. They were off, 
with Happy well in the lead, and a 
more excited boy you never saw. 
In half an hour they were bordering 
the swamp, and before long the 
hound began to show unmistakable 


130 CAMPIKG WITH HENRY 


signs of uneasiness. Then followed 
a long yap. 

“He sme — smells something,” cried 
Happy. “Let him g — ^go!” 

“Not in this swamp,” cried Texas. 
“We might lose him. Everybody 
yap now, and keep your eyes open.” 

They all broke into a run and 
followed the lead of the hound. 
Suddenly Henry and Edwin Knevels 
appeared and joined in the chase. 

“She’s straight ahead,” whispered 
Henry to Texas. “Let the hound 
lead out.” 

After as exciting a scramble as a 
crowd of boys ever had in this 
world, the hound stopped short in 
a patch of hickory second-growth 
and set up such a yap that the boys 
began gazing into the treetops to 
see if by any good chance they could 
have scared up a coon. 

“I see him! I see him!” cried 
Texas, after a lot of maneuvering 
and much yapping. Every boy was 


CONDUCTS A COON HUNT 131 


dry and entirely out of breath. 
Everyone gazed in the direction in- 
dicated, and before many seconds 
the tree was surrounded. There 
could be no doubting it, there was 
something in the upper branches. 

“It’s a young one,” cried Texas. 
“Now let go easy. Let’s some of 
us get dry stuff and build a fire, 
and we’ll let Happy chop down the 
tree. Mr. Helmen, you and Henry 
take the bag, and look out — it might 
be a polecat.” 

It was hard to rouse any interest 
in gathering wood for a fire, but 
when Texas refused to let the tree 
be cut until the fire was lighted, many 
hands made light work. 

Soon the yellow glare outlined the 
animal in the tree, and Happy pre- 
pared with real pomp and ceremony 
to fell the hickory. 

“Thi — thi — this ax is a — a — awful 
dull,” he panted. “Ge — gee, it hasn’t 
been sharpened for a coon’s age!” 


132 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


Oh, how he toiled, growing more 
excited each moment. The perspira- 
tion just rolled off. Henry never 
enjoyed anything so much in his life. 
It had worked out so much better 
than he even dared hope — thanks 
to the help of Mr. Knevels and Ed, 
and the big surprise was yet to come. 

Finally the tree swayed and slowly 
toppled over. The boys crowded in 
tight, but Mr. Helmen was ready, 
and in a jiffy the bag wai^ slid over 
the coon and the successful catch 
announced with a gleeful shout. 

“It’s a young one!” cried Mr. 
Helmen. “Now let’s take a look 
at that mound of fresh dirt before 
we go. It can’t be far from here. 
Perhaps there are more.” 

“It’s over here,” cried Lefty, and 
soon a dozen lanterns and as many 
little eager groups were searching 
for the mound of fresh earth. Several 
times they thought they had dis- 
covered it, only to find their mis- 


CONDUCTS A COON HUNT 133 


take, and then, oddly enough, Henry 
came across it. 

“But wait,*' cried Mr. Helmen; 
“now that we have found it, let’s 
go back to the fire and take a look 
at the coon we have and let a few 
dig out this hole. I don’t believe 
it’s anything but a ground hog’s 
hole, and I’m crazy to see that coon.” 

It was agreed, and the procession 
hurried back to the fire. Happy was 
unanimously chosen to slip the noose 
over the coon as Mr. Helmen forced 
him to the mouth of the bag. It 
was a moment of eager expectancy. 
Many of the older fellows, of course, 
realized that it was a put-up job, 
but the majority of the new campers 
never gave it a thought and were 
eager to see the new mascot. 

“I — I — I am ready,” panted 
Happy, his hands so unsteady he 
could hardly hold the rope in place. 

Slowly the lump was forced for- 
ward, and then suddenly a furry 


134 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


head poked its way out the end 
with an angry fuss — ^fuss — mia-o-u! 
Every hair was on end and the 
claws distended. Happy did his 
duty like a hero, although he was 
certain he was about to be pounced 
upon. To be accurate, the animal 
was far more frightened than ^was 
the boy. 

“The cat’s out of the bag!” drawled 
Texas with a chuckle. “He acted 
just like a coon.” 

“Why the bla — blam — blamed 
thing is a cat,” sputtered Happy, “a 
common t — tom tiger cat;” and then, 
after a moment’s reflection, he added, 
“and — and I’m pretty glad he is.” 

The crowd went wild with delight, 
and the new mascot was nearly 
forgotten for the time being. 

Just then the diggers returned to 
the fire, dragging a heavy sack. 

“We have another coon!” cried 
Henry. “Happy, do you want to 
muzzle him?” But Happy declined. 


CONDUCTS A COON HUNT 135 


“Everybody get in a circle,” cried 
Henry. “I’m going to lasso this 
one, but not till you are still. 

“We have a treat here, due to the 
kindness and generosity of Mr. 
Knevels. These are harvest apples.” 
He reached into the bag and began 
to toss ripe harvest apples about 
the circle. “We thought first it was 
a bag of crocodile eggs, but they 
are just apples. I propose nine 
rousers for the farm bunch.” 

They were given with an enthusi- 
asm that made every boy present 
glad he was a member of Pokokoko. 

Of course by now every one real- 
ized that the whole event had been 
prearranged, and wanted to know 
who was responsible. Foxie saw a 
chance to have a little more fun, so 
took the stump and told how Henry’s 
fertile head had conceived the idea, 
and how he and Texas were just 
his confederates. 

“Best time we have had all sum- 


136 CAMPING WITH HENRY 


mer!” shouted some one, and then 
came nine real rousers for Henry. 

The fire was extinguished by shovel- 
ing sod on to it. The cat was taken 
in charge by the farmers, and the 
party started home, but never to 
forget that glorious harvest moon. 

Henry Ruggles was a happy lad, 
and all the way home he fairly bub- 
bled over with joy. At last he had 
been adopted into the gang and 
felt as one of them. 

“Saturday night I get my EflS- 
ciency Pennant,” he told Mr. Hel- 
men, “and then if I should have to 
go home, I can go happy. Oh, but 
I’m glad I came to Pokokoko. It’s 
simply great, and it’s made a man 
out of me. Why, I didn’t suppose 
anyone could learn so many new 
things or get so many inspirations 
or make so many new friends in 
two weeks. I wish every city boy 
in the land could go to a camp,” 
and then, dropping his voice to a 


CONDUCTS A COON HUNT 137 


confidential tone, he added, “you 
know I’ve decided since I came here 
to make my fife count in the world 
for big things and I’m going to be 
a Leader one of these days or bust.” 


% 


I 


9 


1 


I 


f: P. WTf 

1 \ ' ■ - 


*• V: 


4 • 


• >■ 

» > 


» •. • 


« •* 










■ t 










library of congress 



OOOEliaiTPS 


